The Rescue of Casavir
by Shebagirl
Summary: Leona, a ranger and Captain of Crossroads Keep, hears through a rumor that Casavir could be alive, and goes to look for him. The prison where he is held is more than she expected. Mature content. Occurs after Storm of Zehir expansion. I do not own the rights to Neverwinter Nights' characters or backstories. Leona, her familiar, her friend Grizelda, and the details are mine.
1. Prologue

Prologue

It was good to be home, and yet Leona Amithrada was always trying to leave it.

Leona hadn't meant to spend a year on the road – if you can call it that year "on the road." She fell into another world, woke up with a spirit-devouring curse she couldn't shake, gathered new help and tried to fight it off. She asked Kelemvor, the God of Death himself, to give it back. She touched the Wall of the Faithless – something no living person should ever see, let alone have to touch with a hand. Let alone, pry her own soul out of. She was spent.

But she made new friends: close ones, loyal ones. Of these friends, only Safiya came back with her. Safiya, a Red Wizard, thought she could go back to leading the Academy, but once it was rebuilt she grew bored and asked Leona if she could travel back with her. Okku the bear went back to his rest, to rise again when needed. And Gann…he was a good man, but the timing wasn't right. He took it well, but Leona knew that as she watched her physical wounds heal her inner wounds had a long way to go. They parted as friends, almost like siblings. He respected her need to grieve, and found he preferred wandering anyway, so no harm was done.

It hurt still, like a punch to the heart, every time she thought of her fallen companions. She'd been thrust back into her own world to see a Keep rebuilding, barely holding on through difficult times and scattered allies. Even a year later, the thought of her lost allies hurt too much to bear. That's why she accepted all offers to leave the Keep on missions. She had to get away from the memories.

It was bad enough that she'd seen one of her old companions, Ammon Jerro, while down there with Safiya. Months ago now, in a spiritless body, acting like nothing had happened. In debt to demons, still. Nothing had changed with him.

He told her that Casavir's back had broken while holding up pillars for others. _Just like him_, she had thought, as she'd wiped tears away. _But this is what we do. We help, and then we die. It couldn't end any other way for people like us. It's not like we're going to stop this life, grow old in the country. And he got his wish: he managed to be noble to the last._

Bad enough, too, that she had to walk past the castle rooftops where they spent their last night together before winding their way to the King of Shadows. Bad enough she could practically see herself with him up there still, as if time had frozen for that one happy moment. But then, there were now haunted memories to keep the good ones company.

Leona couldn't stop thinking about the Wall of the Faithless. A purgatory for lost souls, frightened and wailing and begging for mercy. She had tried to tear it down. But she was lucky enough to escape with her own soul intact, and Kelemvor would not allow the Wall to fall. When she recovered her soul from the Wall, she was sent back from His Lair. It was one of her biggest regrets that she couldn't make that Wall fall before leaving. She hadn't stopped dreaming of it, hoping for a different ending where the Wall collpases while she picks up her soul. When she woke up at night for days on end after returning, it was Bishop's voice she heard. There on the wall and mocking her from it, as if he were free and she, imprisoned. He had all that frozen time and still, couldn't let his anger go. She could admit she wept for him, more than for Casavir. Bishop had given her the mask - straight from the Wall - that would ultimately heal her. His final good deed allowed him to pass from the Wall and find peace. His end was just as fitting, but even more tragic, in a way, than his life. It left her the gift of closure, but Casavir was gone too, so she was wide open, raw and angry.

When Safiya settled at the Keep she quickly paired up with Sand. They shared wizard secrets while walking the Keep at night. Seeing them happy made Leona happy too, but she ached for her lost loves even more. Elanee and her stepfather were also happy together, rebuilding West Harbour, but she saw them rarely, which suited her. That love could bloom in this now-ravaged land should have been a comfort to her. But she never slept well since returning from the Wall. If she wasn't reliving Bishop's pointed jabs or the wall of contorted limbs, she was dreaming of Casavir in a dark red room, emotionless and beaten. But she did her work dutifully, and left the Keep as often as she could.

Boarding the _Vigilant_ should have been like every other mission, yet she found friendship in a young dwarf fighter named Grizelda Mums. Thrown together as allies after being shipwrecked, the two banded together to set things right all over the area. They rescued captains, defeated bands of Yuan-Tis, and continued on their own, exploring dungeons and hiring out adventuring jobs to anyone who could pay. Leona was as close to happy as she could get during this time. No pitying faces at the Keep: instead, constant motion. Nothing to worry about but meals, enemies, and bartering. And she was able to take her new rage out on anyone who dared cross her. Grizelda was as easy a companion as Khelgar had been; sometimes Leona felt she _was_ with Khelgar, in the old days, before she'd even met the men who died. But she found Grizelda more level-headed, and found her own rage rising. Soon Grizelda was holding her back from fights, as she herself once did with Khelgar, long ago. All the same, she almost forgot her sadnesses. But then they got to Port Llast.

She made sure that in all her travels, no one knew she was Captain of the Keep. They were dangerously close to home, and she couldn't believe she hadn't been recognized already. She'd spent plenty of time here while gathering forces and supplies for the Keep. But so much had changed, and over a year had passed since the war against the Shadows was won. Port Llast had been ravaged by the Wars and was now under Luskan occupation. How Luskans got here, she didn't know, and she didn't care. Leona found herself reluctantly talking to the Captain of the Luskan occupants, for information on missions. Right then, she didn't want trouble. But the Captain was a chatty fellow, and before long he was talking about how he himself had been there close to two years ago now, when they found a paladin, left for dead in the Mere. "Just West of where the Battle of the Shadows was fought," the Captain said. "Broken ribs, broken leg…at first we thought his back was broken, until he managed to get up and limp. Looked all dusty, like he'd been in a cavern full of ashes." Leona's head turned so fast she got dizzy. She stammered out her question, hoping against hope: "What…was…his…name?"


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Leona saw Grizelda shake her head in pity. They rarely talked about her 'fallen ones' as Grizelda called them; she hadn't known them, and they had eyes to the present only. It suited them both; Leona tried each day to hide her ache for her lovers.

"His name? What does it matter now? One Neverwinter criminal is like all Neverwinter criminals."

Now Grizelda got interested, because the man wasn't making sense. "Criminal? Ye just said he was a paladin. Can't be both, Cap'n, unless Luskan is even more backwards than I thought."

Leona's heart pounded faster. She knew Casavir had left Neverwinter in some kind of dishonor. He didn't discuss it, but she knew it had to do with the owner of a pub in the city. And she also knew that if Lord Nasher still allowed him to join her, it couldn't have been all _that_ dishonorable.

"Yeah, well, _this_ guy was both. Both paladin and criminal. Killed a man. A _Luskan_ man, mind you. Crime against the city, that is."

Grizelda scoffed under her breath. "Prob'ly deserved it, eh Leona?"

"Who was this man?"

"We sure didn't know, but the higher-ups did. Recognized him right away as a murderer from years back. Crazy thing, because the guy was raving loony by that time. Muttering something about chess games and wolves and bears and shadows."

Leona shook her head, trying not to make connections. Her bear, and Bishop's wolf, licking his wounds before she fell down through the rocks…

"Where…" Leona's voice cracked against her will as she pushed back a spark of hope. "Where is he now?"

The Captain's eyes narrowed. "Why d'you care? Gonna go looking for him? I knew I had you pegged for a bleeding heart, I did."

"Where. Is. He. Now?" Leona's voice had gone cold, and Grizelda knew that tone. She started packing up their things before this ended badly.  
"Don't know. We handed him over, and that was the end of it. Bet it's top prison of the top. Guy like that, even half-dead already, hurt two of our men bad. He was fierce, that one. Feral. Hope they put him down like a dog by now."

Leona stood up. Before her dagger got all the way out, Griselda stepped in front of her, trying to be as tall as her short frame could muster. "Thanks for your time, Cap'n. We'll see you around the Port." Then she looked up and around at Leona as if to say, _save it for the goblins_. Leona resheathed her little dagger, and shot a look of daggers at the Captain instead. As she allowed herself to be led off, she muttered, "Khelgar would have let me at him. You are no damn friend at all."

"No, Ranger, I'm the best damn friend you've got. I think it's time for you to talk to Khelgar yourself and see if _he_ can calm you down. I'm through coming between you and danger, in the name of a bunch of ghosts."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Leona rolled her eyes. Clearly Khelgar had never seen such a comely dwarf fighter, and since Grizelda came close to breaking his arm when he got too close to her, he was already positively in love. _Great, another two friends paired off, _she thought_. Maybe I can start charging for this matchmaking service as I end up a withered, grieving crone._

But it was true: Leona had too much fighting spirit these days, and Grizelda was constantly holding her back, just like Leona used to do for Khelgar. _They actually would make a good match,_ she thought. _But then who will rein ME in, when I go too far? _

When she finally got Khelgar away from Grizelda – who seemed all too pleased to get her personal space back – Leona assembled a meeting of the survivors of the war of Shadows. With Elanee away and Zhjave and Grobnar traveling often, this left Khelgar, Sand, Neeshka, and Qara. Leona sat them down, and told them calmly what she'd heard from the Luskan captain. She knew she had to gauge her words carefully: she wanted to be taken seriously and not just throw out wishful thinking.

Everyone reacted as expected. Qara spoke first after the long silence: "Well, it was only a matter of time before you went delusional. Frankly I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner."

Sand followed up, ever the logician: "Why wouldn't we have heard some whisper of this by now, hmm? We still have spies in Luskan."

"Not since your ex-girlfriend Torio blew her cover."

"She was a good spy, Neeshka."

"Yeah, she was. Until she _blew her cover._"

"She was no longer needed for the –"

"Can we stay on task here?" snapped Leona. With no big Shadows to fight, personality conflicts ran rampant, and she wasn't used to having to lead, like she used to. All got quiet and turned to her, surprised at her short fuse.

"This 'ere's the thing," said Khelgar finally, "and we all know it. If there's even a hint that Casavir's alive, we've got t' find out. And if he is alive, we're gonna get him back. Prob'ly a fool's errand, child. But if Grizelda's comin' with ye, then by Tyr's left buttock, so am I."

"That right there proves that Casavir's dead," said Qara. "If he were alive he'd have heard that, and come and throttled you just for the curse."


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Leona didn't want to travel the road to Neverwinter. She hadn't been back since the War ended, and knew the rebuilding would make her sad. Not to mention this memory-filled route she'd traveled so often before. The Wars had weakened everyone who fought, but they'd had years to rest; instead she was cursed and in a foreign land for much of that time. There was no rest for her. At night she still dreamed of the Faithless, so she couldn't rest even when she was resting.

"You know this can't end well." Only Sand had come on this journey, because last time he'd scored some points with Ophala, the owner of the Moonstone Mask. Rumor had it that she bartered in information as well as ale and, especially, girls. She'd be the first one to ask. Despite Khelgar's idea that they just head into Luskan swinging, no one – including Leona – felt they had enough to go on to even approach Lord Nasher with a plan. They needed more, and Ophala would surely have it.

"Leona, this won't end well," repeated Sand, jarring her out of reverie. They'd spoken little on the trip, but she knew this talk was coming. Sand didn't spare feelings when something needed to be said.

Leona talked while walking, breathless and turned away from him. "The only thing keeping me alive right now is doing good. If there's even a chance that –"

"You know there's not." The interruption made Leona turn her head back to him.

"Did you see him die, Sand?"

"No, but we came out without him. And Ammon Jerro did. He saw it, Leona. It's over and you're making it worse for yourself by holding onto Luskan lies."

Leona stopped walking. "Then why are you here?"

Sand didn't answer her question. Instead he asked quietly, "You came face to face with Kelemvor. Why didn't you ask the God of Death yourself if he was gone?"

"Because I had to bargain for my soul. I didn't want to give him any power over me."

"This bores me, Leona. Was your sometime lover on the other plane not a Dreamwalker? Could you not have solicited his help?"

"Ask a current lover to seek out a former, two worlds away? Really, Sand? Bad enough he had to sleep with the ghosts I carried. You don't know what that was like! And you hated Ammon Jerro! You never believed a word from his mouth. If you believe him now, why are you HERE then? Why?"

"You stray from the point."

"Which is?"

Sand sighed. "The fact remains that you don't want the answer. Because once you have it you die with him."

The reason Leona got along well with Sand – and so many others didn't – was that when he threw barbs (which was often), she stood in place and watched where they fell. Usually his cutting words were right. She considered for a second, and then echoed his sigh.

"Sand, when I met Ammon Jerro again, he too was without his soul. I had to buy it back, and replace it in his body. Nothing was as it seemed in that world. And even if he saw Casavir…Look. You have it wrong. Yes, I have hope. Yes, but it's less that I want it to be true, than that I fear it is true and I'm not doing anything about it. I just need to know."

"And that, dear Ranger, is precisely _why_ I _am_ here," said Sand. He started walking again, and she squared her shoulders and prepared to follow.

The Moonstone Mask, as always, was packed. It was practically a tourist attraction now, one of the few businesses that had lasted for generations. And Ophala had been there all the while, even before the Hero of Neverwinter had cured the wailing death decades ago. Ophala was a legend herself. Now that Leona as Knight Captain was a legend also, she felt for the first time that she belonged in such grand company. If only she hadn't been so weary, she might have enjoyed herself, too.

Sand secured a meeting with Ophala for the following day, and they spent the rest of their day touring the city to see what had changed. Sand had recently taken Safiya to Neverwinter upon her request, but they'd only gone to the ritzy Blacklake district, so this sight-seeing of sorts pleased him. He connected with old contacts at the Docks while she smiled bravely in the face of many thanks and accolades. She'd hoped to escape attention, but when word got out that the back-from-the-dead Knight Captain had returned, she was summoned to see Lord Nasher for the following day.

"Good we'll see Ophala first. If we find out anything, we can share it with him," Leona said to Sand.

"Riiiiiight," said Sand. She let it go. They knew where they stood, and he was here next to her. That was all that mattered.

The following morning they prepared for their visit with Ophala. "Let me do the talking," said Sand. The last time she'd let Sand do the talking, she was on trial – by Luskan, as a matter of fact. But Leona just nodded and tried to stay calm.

Ophala was, as always, lovely and poised. She knew her business, and listened without prejudice as Sand explained they were looking for one of their company who had gone missing in the final days of the War. He further explained that they wondered if she'd known Casavir, or what his sins were in Neverwinter. They needed a trail to begin a search for him, if indeed he lived. Was he tied to a pub owner, as rumored?

At the mention of his name, Ophala visibly jumped. This was a woman used to keeping secrets; she didn't betray herself lightly. She sat up to her full height, and her eyes turned to Leona. After staying silent for a moment, surveying her, finally she spoke.

"So you are the new lover he took. I thought it might have been you."

Now it was Leona's turn to shift in her seat.

"And of course, discreet man he was, he never spoke of me." Ophala rose, and poured drinks for all, though it was early. "Trust me, friends, you're going to need these by day's end."

Leona took the drink, though wary at being called 'friend' by someone she knew little of. Sand leaned forward. "You have information to speak of?"

"Sand, my dear, I have information to sing of. I knew Casavir very, very well. I knew him, I think, better than you –" she nodded towards Leona – "knew him. You don't look the type to be unsettled by truth. These days, and in this business, I rarely tell it. But I think now this tale wants to be heard."


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Leona stayed silent, and tried to keep her face neutral. She wasn't sure what she was about to hear, but hungered for it all the same. Any talk of Casavir would keep him alive in this room. Lulled by months thinking only of the present, that was all she wanted right now.

"Did you know I was an adventurer myself, Leona? Oh yes, years ago. Sand, of course you know this. I belonged to the Many-Starred Cloak, the guild to which you now belong."

Sand nodded, but did not speak. He seemed not to want to break her stride.

"Magic users, all. We thought much of ourselves, and didn't like to associate with the plain-folk, as we called them. But of course we had to, because you need balance on adventures. I met so many people, and came to love the social wrangling more than the adventures themselves. That's why I wound up here, you see.

"I had many lovers. I could not run these services without knowing about coupling." She leveled her eyes at Leona. "Casavir was one of my lovers."

Leona didn't know how to react, but not because she was embarrassed. She'd expected this part. She just wasn't sure what Ophala wanted from her, so again she tried to stay neutral.

"You know, I'm a half-elf. I lived several lives before meeting Casavir, and he was young. He fell harder for me than he should have, and I led him on more than I should have. I could see it wasn't going to end well. As you can tell, friends, I'm not the settling down type."

Sand took the appropriate moment to chuckle, and Leona smiled. She hadn't thought she herself was the settling down type, either, but she would have given anything to have had the choice, as Ophala did.

"Casavir, as you know, was a superb soldier. Before long he was offered the chance to train for the Corps of Eighty-One."

At this, Leona sucked in her breath, because this was news to her. The Corps of Eighty-One contained some of the city's finest knights. The very best of them were chosen for the Neverwinter Nine, Lord Nasher's personal guard. To even be considered for a position in the Corps was an honor indeed.

"Surely you're not surprised your lover made the cut?" asked Ophala.

"No, not at that. But I know so little about his past. This seems such a source of pride, and I never knew it of him."

"That's surely because of what happened after. Casavir had to choose between me and the Eighty-One. At training's start, they allow no ties, and travel widely. He could not have kept me, and he struggled with the decision.

"In the end, he chose to go. I admit I was relieved. He was too in love, too close to me. But you see, the decision was especially hard for him because he knew I had another lover."

Leona's eyebrows raised.

"Don't look so shocked, dear," Ophala said. "I never lied to them. I had nothing to hide, and I was not ashamed. He came back like a puppy even though he knew about the other man."

Now it was Sand's turn to shift uncomfortably in his seat. Ophala was nothing if not observant.

"Sand?"

He looked to Leona as if for help. She sighed.

"Well, I…I also had another lover. It wasn't like you, I mean, we weren't…ongoing at the same …it was just before…"

"Come child, I of all people understand. Did he stay on with you after knowing? Casavir?"

Leona paused and looked down. "Yes. But I wouldn't say like a puppy. He was practically unhinged. It was…a struggle."

"Ah yes, the unhinged Casavir. I quite liked him that way, didn't you?"

"He was hurting."

"Yes, well, clearly you love him more than I ever did. I preferred him a little raw, much the way I like my steaks."

Leona stood up. "Are we done here?"

Ophala grinned. "You want answers, and I have a few. I don't know if he's dead or alive, but if he is alive, I have a very good idea where he might be, and I know what his crime was. It was murder. You know that, don't you?"

Leona reluctantly sat back down. The idea of Casavir's having other lovers did not bother her, but that someone could play his heart like a chess piece left her cold. No wonder he practically broke after she went off with Bishop. She'd replayed his worst nightmare, and hadn't even known. Leona swallowed hard and felt suddenly guilty. Even knowing Casavir's past now, she wouldn't take that day back. It was all she had of Bishop, all she ever wanted to have, and she felt entitled to it. Even at Casavir's great expense.

Ophala was still grinning when Leona lifted her wet eyes. "We're more alike than not, dear, and you know it. You just happen to really love him, and I happen to love a lot of other things. As it happened, so did he. He left for training for the Eighty-One."

The story now back in swing, Sand and Leona leaned into their chairs and tried to relax. Ophala admitted to playing Casavir against her other suitor's affections, which at least Leona took comfort in never having done. What's more, Ophala's other suitor was appealing for entry into the Eighty-One.

"The plot thickens, eh? Horatio was a decent fighter, not the best. He wasn't the squeaky-clean type they usually take. He was a better drinker and talker, and it was obvious he was in the wrong business. He could charm the pants off a nun, but wasn't fit for loyalty. He might have gotten into the Corps the way many men did: he had a rich Daddy. But the problem was, his mother was Luskan."

At that, Sand spat on the floor. He hated Luskan as much as Bishop had. Funny that both he and Bishop had spent time there, and yet hated Luskan so much. Once they each escaped, they hadn't looked back.

"Yes, so you see, Horatio would never be of the Eighty-One, because of his mother. No matter how rich his father was, no matter how esteemed was his father's service. Casavir hated leaving him here with me, but that's what happened. Until one night, Horatio drank a little too much, bribed the right people, and wound up where the Eighty-One had made camp outside the city."

Leona knew where this was going, but she couldn't figure out how Casavir had _murdered_ him. Isn't that what the Captain said? What Ophala just said?

"Horatio sought out Casavir, and the men let him taunt the hell out of him, from what I'd heard. Good men all, but they'd been waiting a long time to watch this particular fight. Everyone knew it was coming. You should have seen the sparks fly when they were together."

"I think I know the feeling," said Leona.

"But that night, he lured Casavir away from the crowd, to have it out 'man to man,' he said. The two men left camp, and neither came back."

"Why?" asked Sand.

"Because Horatio got killed that night, and Casavir knew not to bother going back. His life was over. He'd never have stayed in the Corps."

Leona sat very still, one tear streaking from her left eye. Casavir had a very, very bad temper. When she'd met him, he was taking it out on Orcs. He channeled it well, but when she saw it bubble up, it was terrifying. One night of lost will, and he lost his whole life. Sand sighed and covered his face with his hands.

Leona's tear was for regret as much as grief. She had forced Casavir and Bishop to work side by side. She alone had made him relive his tragedy. He kept all these emotions in check, expertly, and she never knew what hell he battled even as he stood beside her.

Ophala leaned forward in her chair, almost touching knees. "I will tell you this, Leona. I think that Horatio wanted to die. I think he wanted to take someone down with him. It was his way. I wouldn't be surprised if he stabbed himself with the damn dagger. Casavir would have blamed himself anyway. Horatio knew what a good man he was. To a fault. Too much of a good thing, with him."

Bishop, too, had goaded Casavir. But Bishop was the coward inside, that all bullies are: all words, all bark. Not even Bishop would have framed Casavir for a murder. In the end, Bishop even died honorably, and look where he ended up. Right on the Wall of the Faithless, probably a few doors down from Horatio. The injustice of it all struck Leona so hard she shook her head, and tears flew from side to side.

Sand spoke up. "If this Horatio wanted to be a soldier so much, why didn't he go to Luskan for it?"

"Ah, because his father was a decorated hero here. He had high hopes, but was expelled from school in Luskan. He was not a good seed, Sand. But it's my business, and even then I tolerated him, for my benefit. He was competitive, and I won each time he tried to get ahead. I did love to see him and Casavir together. It was like oil and water." She turned her head towards the window. "I always wanted them in bed together. That would have been a night to remember."

Leona's raw emotion cracked open. "People _died_ here! People DIED! And these are the final words of your story?" Leona stood up again, with no intent to be lured back down. Instead of trying, Ophala stood up too, and got even closer to her, close enough to whisper.

"Try and tell me you never thought of it, your goody paladin and evil ranger together. I know what an adventurer's life is like. We don't have boundaries when we can die any day. Don't play holier than thou with me, Leona. I can smell unholy all over you."

Leona lifted her head and stepped back, as if slapped. "How did you know my other lover was a ranger?"

"Because Bishop was here many times, child, and he never held his tongue."

Leona took a shuddering breath, to clear her head, tears, and pounding heart. "Fine. Fine. Everything I've done, you've done more and better. Congratulations. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to follow a cold trail to a dead man. While he was alive, you could have cleared his name."

Ophala shook her head. "If you really believe that, child, you know less about Luskan than you should."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Lord Nasher didn't seem particularly upset that Leona and Sand hadn't announced their appearance in the city, and Leona was relieved. She'd been adamant that they divulge everything they knew about their 'investigation'. Sand reminded her that an 'investigation' actually implied they had _some_ leads, but she stood her ground. There was a chance that Nasher would be outraged, and send a party immediately. There was a chance he'd have further information, or could get some. As it happened, he had neither. But he was interested to hear all they knew.

"If Casavir lives, that would be very lucky indeed. Neverwinter would be fortunate to have such a loyal servant back in Her midst."

Leona stayed silent. She reminded herself that as a ruler, his priorities were not hers, and he was going to stay as noncommittal as possible. Luskan was a formidable neighbor, and going to war over one man's life – or memory – wasn't an option for him. She cleared her throat and shifted her weight.

"Would you forbid us going to search for him?" she asked.

Lord Nasher paused a few moments, while stroking his beard. Finally, keeping his eyes level on hers, he said, "I would not allow it."

Sand cut in. "Thank you, Sire, that's all we needed to know." He practically dragged Leona towards the door, as Lord Nasher stopped them, to add a thought.

"If he is held there, adventurers, it will be in a remote place. I venture to say Ophala knows of such prisons. Our spies don't deal in the Luskan underbelly half as well as she. Shame she gave up adventuring for bartering, truly."

"If bartering is what you'd like to call it," muttered Sand, as he guided a confused Leona to the wide chamber doors.

Leona couldn't believe she was headed back to Ophala's "office" so soon. She dragged her feet, replaying what Nasher had said.

"Well _that _went far better than I expected," said Sand as they walked across the square.

"Did I miss something? He forbid us to proceed, Sand. And then teased us with information we couldn't act on."

"Ranger, you need to spend less time with animals and more time with people. He said he would not allow it, _not_ that he would forbid it."

"And?"

"And, he chose his words carefully. They mean different things. He was telling you to go, but that he wouldn't be involved. Ever the politician, the staid Lord Nasher. I suppose that's how he lasted this long. Surely you can't blame him. If you get yourself killed or captured over there, he wants to wash his hands of it."

"What a comfort. The highest ranking official in the land washes his hands of me."

"If Casavir's still alive, it will work for both of them – and us."

"Ahh, the brave adventurers are back." Ophala entered from one of many seemingly secret doors at the Moonstone Mask. "Another round of questioning? If so, please hurry. It's Friday, and the blacksmiths do love their ales on Fridays."

Leona's body language said she could barely bear the proximity, so Sand began again with new questions.

"You said that if Casavir were alive, you might know where he was hidden. Is there a secret prison in Luskan?"

"There are several. But if I'd captured a man like Casavir, I know just where I would put him: in the Manor of the Sirens."

Sand frowned. "This is nothing I've heard of, even in legend. How many secrets do those damn Luskans keep?"

"Oh, too many to name, surely. But I know a few. I've trained a few girls for _that_ particular prison over the years."

For a moment Leona considered that Ophala could be the most powerful individual in all of Neverwinter. She knew things that Nasher didn't know, and didn't want to know. People had killed over her. She had allies everywhere. Leona wondered who would be her equivalent at the Keep. Probably her uncle Duncan, who ran the pub there. She made a mental note to remind him to keep his ears to the ground.

"The Manor of the Sirens is far out on the Trackless Sea, past Fang Island. Don't ask me exactly where because I don't know. It's a prison designed to break a man."

"Aren't they all?" said Sand.

Ophala snickered. "Not necessarily. Most prisons, at least on paper, are there to rehabilitate men. This one is designed to break the spirit. No one imprisoned there is going back out to society, reformed."

"If you've trained women for this," said Leona, "surely you know what is done there? Is it magical in nature?"

"I know some of it. Only some of it. And no, not magical. It's…sexual in nature."

Sand raised his eyebrows. "Somehow this doesn't sound like a prison at all. It sounds like a resort."

"Oh no, dear. It's said good men jump from windows into the sea, just to escape another day there." Suddenly Ophala looked sad. "Pleasure can be the greatest captor," she said, as she shook her head.

When she looked up again, she saw two pairs of confused eyes staring back at her. "Think of the man that Casavir was," she said, as if explaining basic math to a child. "He was proud, he was willful, and he was in control. You can take a man like that, and torture him until you see his bones, and never will he break."

Leona nodded slightly, knowing this was true.

"But you take someone like that, and make him face a man's weakness every day, well, it's a battle he is bound to lose. No one lasts more than a fortnight before giving in to lust. Within two short weeks there, any man becomes a slave. No one ever lasts longer – no one. It is the worst kind of humiliation when one not only loses the battle, but enjoys oneself while doing it. Casavir? He already suffered from a wicked self-loathing. You know it almost ruined him. Imagine what two years giving in to a daily seduction would do, to a man like him. There will simply be no dignity left in the man."

Finally, Ophala was getting through. The look of horror on Leona's face wasn't jealousy, for the many other women he'd have had by now. No, she was horrified at the thought of him trying and failing every day to resist temptation. Surely for him, that Manor would be the truest torture.

"You might consider never looking for him, Leona. It's already unlikely he is the man the Luskan Captain spoke of. And if he was, it's unlikely he survived the Manor this long. And then if he did, well, he will never be what he was. He's beyond broken. He'll be a ghost."

Leona, white as a ghost herself, watched Ophala walk away pleased with herself. In an unusual display of affection, Sand put his arm around Leona and said, "Ranger, Ophala has a point. If he lives, it would humiliate him to see you again. I think you have some thinking to do."


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Leona decided to keep Casavir's past with Ophala to herself (and Sand). No one else needed to know details right now. The only person she wanted to see was Khelgar, her dearest friend, to see what he thought about the prison. She dreaded what he would say, but could have scripted it all the same. But still she didn't feel right keeping it from him.

"I don't like repeatin' myself, Lass. If the man's alive, we get 'im. Doesn't matter if he's King of Luskan by now. Casavir's a man deserves a choice, he is. If he's held against his will, we're breakin' 'im out."

"Even if he doesn't want to be found?"

"He doesn't know what he wants. He doesn't even know you're still alive, lass. He's got nothing to fight for, now he thinks you're gone."

_Don't I know the feeling,_ thought Leona.

"We gots ta go, Lass. Ye won't rest until ye know. I know that much about ye, by now."

She knew he was right. But it was a fool's errand, a suicidal one. "I don't want to risk anyone's –"

"Come off it, Ranger. You know I'd never let ye go alone. And you'll take Grizelda, yeah?"

Leona sighed. She didn't know how she got into this, but Khelgar was right. There was no other way, until she knew for sure whether Casavir was alive or dead. He'd saved her life so many times she'd lost count. Even if he didn't want to live when he got back – or live with _her – _she owed him his life back, at the least.

"Yes, Griz will come. And Sand and Neeshka. No one else."

"No one else needed. We'll get the job done, if there's a job to do."

"May your words go straight up to Tyr's ears, Khelgar."

"That maimed old goat? Don't get me started on HIM, letting his bravest fall so far astray. I ever meet Him, He and I are havin' words, we are. God or not, you don't let your best men to rot alone in a house of ill-repute."


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Casavir opened his eyes with a start. He was dreaming of Leona again, but when he woke up, her features were hazy in his conscious mind. That was the part he hated most: not being able to remember her details. They had waned each day, until she was just an oval face with a blond braid. When the blondes came, that was the hardest for him. He told himself that he would know if one of them were even really her. But by now, he wasn't sure he _would_ know. Or that he would care. She was gone, he was here, and pleasure was all he had to keep him company. Seems like it should have been a warmer comfort, but each night he felt more empty than the last, in negative numbers too high to count.

There was no true routine here. Amazing that they managed to keep an ironic torture so fresh, so cutting, after hundreds of days. He was well-fed and well-clothed; he had roaming rights around several chambers and outside. No one needed to tell him he'd die if he tried to swim away. When he'd tried not to eat they'd found a way to feed him while he was barely conscious. When he'd tried to break through walls to see if others were held there, he knew that strong magic was preventing anyone there from seeing exactly what they should. He was well and truly trapped, and soon ran out of ideas.

He remembered the first time he stopped resisting. It had been exactly sixteen days here, and he was weary of gently pushing the women away so as not to hurt them. They'd become more aggressive, and he had a conscious choice to make. They never came across as evil, shifty, or cruel. They had a genuine joy for their hours, and he knew they weren't really his captors, not in charge. When he refused them, they enjoyed each other, as if children playing with whatever toy they found themselves next to. They were insatiable, and irresistible. If he wounded or killed them, more would come. And then he would only have dozens of dead bodies on his conscience, and still no freedom to show for it.

So on the sixteenth day, he'd given in by choice. He let himself be swept away by all they offered, and tried not to think about the past or the future. He tried to tell himself that he was committing a noble act, letting _them _live when he could have broken each of them like twigs. And he tried, still, to make daily devotions to Tyr. But Tyr, who once showed him visions and spoke directly to him in the temples, no longer could be heard. Sure he wasn't out of earshot, Casavir assumed he was forsaken. And sure he deserved to be, he slowly, over time, stopped being a fighter and became nothing but a lover.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Leona rubbed her eyes, and then her back. Her muscles were sore from bending over the same map for hours, going over plan upon plan until one sounded like the least likely to fail. Even getting through Luskan was a chore, because Luskans were notorious for hating non-humans, and Leona was the only human in the bunch. Neeshka would pose as her slave. Khelgar and Grizelda would pose as pirates, meaning they had to approach from the coast, sailing North out of Neverwinter instead of walking the road. And though Sand never discussed it, he was in fact from Luskan. Giving his story privacy, no one discussed how he would get through, but he seemed confident he could, and they left it at that.

Once out of Luskan, they would meet up on the fake pirate ship Khelgar and Grizelda came on, and sail past Fang Island. The island was rocky and deserted, and it is said that wild magic bursts out near the island at random. Even the Luskan Brotherhood couldn't harness it. With Sand the only magic user among them, other than Leona's small spells, this worried everyone – except Sand, it seemed.

"Bring Honus, and we'll be fine."

"My BEAR? First of all, he hates boats. And secondly, how is he going to protect us from wild magic?"

Sand sighed as if frustrated by flies buzzing around him. "Because," he said testily, "Honus himself is a product of wild magic. His presence will ground the boat."

Neeshka smelled deception. "Sand, have you _been_ to Fang Island before?"

"No, Neeshka, I haven't. But a long, long time ago I sailed far out, almost to the Trackless Sea. I doubt it's changed much in a century."

Khelgar coughed. "Probably more wrecked ships and pirate bones, I'd say."

"Besides," Sand continued, "Look at the map. We don't have to go that close to the Island. We head out Southwest past it, and keep our feelers out for magic."

"This still doesn't explain what we'll do when we get there," Neeshka said. "If we even get there. If we even live that long."

Grizelda jerked her thumb in Neeshka's direction. "She always this optimistic?"

Khelgar chuckled. "She's just scared cause she can't fight worth a damn. You'll see."

"Neither can you, Khelgar, since I just stole the dagger right from your pocket!"

Friendly wrestling ensued, until they all got quiet again, realizing no one answered Neeshka's question.

"Well how _are_ we going to get past the sirens in the Manor, then?"

Sand stroked his chin. "My bet is they're excellent magic users, and know basic defense. But it's unlikely they're good fighters, hand to hand. And surely there will be no guards on the island. All we really need to do is stop them from sounding the alarm."

"Who would come, anyway?" asked Grizelda. "And if they did, why couldn't we find what route _they_ sailed, and sail it ourselves, to stay out of danger?"

"I like how you think, Lass," Khelgar said, inching his seat closer to hers. She kicked the leg of it so hard that it almost became a three-legged chair.

"So, at night, then," said Leona. We can get the lay of the land one night, and come back for rescue the second."

"If there's something to rescue," Sand added as he leveled his eyes at her. He seemed to make it his personal job to be the reality check. All this talk of a rescue mission, when they were unsure who was even in the Manor, unsettled him. He wanted to avoid Leona's breaking in two if they searched the Manor clean and found no one they knew.

"I'll be able to find and disable all the magical traps," daydreamed Neeshka. "I bet there'll be loads! It'll be fun for me."

"Won't be enough," said Sand. "There will be so much magic on this Island that one, we'll be lucky to find it in the first place, two, we'll be lucky to survive setting foot on it, and three, we'll be lucky not to be dragged into its prison, willingly or not. I haven't even gotten to the rescue yet."

"Well what're we gonna do," asked Neeshka, "put the whole island to sleep or something?"

Everyone jumped as Leona slammed her hand on the table. "You know what?" she said. "I happen to know someone who can do just that."


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Everyone who met Sand thought he was haughty. But there was no denying that Gannayev-of-Dreams looked and acted like the most arrogant person Leona's team had ever met. Leona had contacted him right after the planning meeting, and apparently he agreed to come help them rescue Casavir. This was one of many topics no one in the party wanted to talk about, and they had mixed feelings about meeting him, let alone having him join the party. Everyone knew that Leona had taken a new lover while on the other plane, but that it had been short-lived because she was in mourning for Casavir. Safiya, who was with her through it all, was discreet, but bits and pieces of the story emerged. Everyone was wondering if this Gann was the lover, and if so, why in the world he'd agree to come back and help Leona recover his rival.

Blue-skinned from his mother's side, Gann-of-Dreams was delicately handsome, long-haired, and oozed an intimidating power that you couldn't put your finger on. Shamans usually had a discomfiting aura; for Gann, his attitude only upped the ante. He was also a Dreamwalker, which meant he could enter anyone's dreams, anytime. By nature, he made people uncomfortable, as if they suddenly felt made of glass and he could see right through them. People often felt violated around him, simply because he held the power to violate them. There was an awkward silence as he entered with Leona, while the party tried to figure out how best to handle both a person and past they were unsure of. Leona stayed by the door, arms crossed, clearly certain that Gann could handle himself. But Neeshka, as usual, broke the ice.

"Oh. My. God," said Neeshka. "You are a half-fiend."

"And you," said Gann, "while old enough to know better, have learned no manners from your kind Captain."

"I'm sorry," muttered Neeshka, "It's just that I've never met a…well, I mean I was raised by priests and…you're like me. That's all. It's…rare around here."

"As you are the only one in the room with a tail, I see just how rare it is." Gann turned to face the whole room. "Let's get the awkward over with, shall we? Yes, we did. Yes, we were. Obviously, if I am standing here, no, it did not end badly. No, I am not jealous of Casavir. Leona and I have been to Hell – literally – and so our bond is probably beyond any of you. And I have my own reasons for being here, and no, they are none of your business. And no, I haven't visited your dreams. Nor will I, unless any of you happen to be young comely farm girls. Lastly: yes, I can put a whole island to sleep, and make them stay asleep. Relax your shoulders, now, all of you, and show me the maps."

Everyone reluctantly drifted over to the maps, except for Khelgar, who marched right over to Gann, and stuck out his arm in greeting. "Leona here is a friend. You must 'ave kept her safe down there, and that means you're a friend of mine."

Gann smiled but barely moved other than to take the warrior's offered arm. "Surely you are Khelgar," he said. "I heard about what happened at that pub long ago, when you and Leona had barely met. Sounds like while I keep her safe, you tend to put her in danger."

Khelgar smiled back. "Then it looks like we'll balance 'er out, eh?" And then he headed to the table, just past Grizelda, chuckling all the way.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Leona could hear Neeshka panting up the hill, just like old times. As a ranger, she could never understand why Neeshka hated even the simplest hike. Something about her tail in the way, she said. At least she had learned to stop complaining over the years. Or maybe it was because Gann was with them. Easily the most charismatic person Leona – or pretty much anyone – had ever met, Gann charmed all. But he seemed to have a calming, instead of unsettling, effect on Neeshka, which was surprising. His energy seemed good for her, and she was focused and attentive.

Khelgar and Grizelda had stayed behind to settle the ship transaction, and would head to the port in a few days. Sand had gone on ahead in a carriage alone, with little to say other than confirming the day they'd meet on the ship. Clearly he had some business to take care of that didn't concern them, and Leona had other things on her mind rather than his personal affairs. She had to prepare herself mentally for what she was about to do. More than likely, Casavir was not in that Manor. But she was no longer worried that they might be blocked from finding him: Gann was a powerful magic user, and being in her world meant he now walked among three, if you counted the dream plane. No one could out-magic them, and with the dwarves along, no one could out-fight them. As long as Neeshka stayed this sharp, no one could outsmart them, either. Their chances of survival, at least, were good. Casavir's chances were not so good. She had to face the fact that she would come back empty-handed, and go straight to his Memorial at the temple of Tyr, to confirm his passing to his God's hands.

The journey through the city was uneventful, just as they wanted it. Gann turned himself into a shaggy- looking cat, which Neeshka thought was hilarious, and Leona had to remind her several times to look serious and dejected, like a slave would. Each time someone turned their head at them, her stomach turned. In Luskan, it wasn't uncommon for people to hire spies just to follow other people, and she didn't want anyone knowing who they met up with. But though still full of undesirables, Luskan had picked up as a merchant city. It was a strangely easy city to get lost in, despite its mistrust of foreigners. As they made their way to the piers, Neeshka didn't notice any followers, so they tried to kill time incognito while literally waiting for their ship to come in.

"Bishop was from here, wasn't he?" Neeshka wasn't having problems scowling now, since she wasn't allowed to drink ale as a slave, and the water tasted dirty. Leona made a big show of gulping down her cold ale like it was the last one in the world before she answered.

While she drank, Gann-the-cat growled deep in his throat. Leona reached out to pet him. "Gann didn't like Bishop. And, like most people, he had very good reason. No, Bishop was from the Harbor, like myself. But you remember, don't you, how he talked about the Luskan assassination squad he almost joined. That put him on his evil path, and he always blamed the Luskans for it."

Neeshka looked with surprise at the angry cat. "But surely they couldn't have met? I mean, after all, Bishop died in –"

Leona put her head down. She hadn't talked to anybody about the Wall of the Faithless. They all knew she had met – and battled – Kelemvor for her soul, but that was all. She kept it from them partly because it was too raw, and partly because she knew they would pity her for the tragedy of her experience. But mostly she kept quiet because she saw it as her failure. She had to leave those souls to face purgatory in the Wall. Bishop was among them, at first. He and Gann shared choice words. And then that was when the Mask appeared for her, and was ultimately her salvation. Bishop committed an act of love, which freed him from the Wall. The others did not get the same chance, and Leona felt somehow it was her fault. She was _right there_, yet couldn't break it down. She felt too much emotion already over Casavir, and thinking of the Wall was too much to bear. She simply said, "Bishop, uh, aided me from his Afterlife, one last time. But he was still a top-notch prick about it. Gann was not impressed."

"Well then Gann is truly one of us," said Neeshka, making the scraggy cat purr, while only making Leona feel more isolated and sad. She opened her mouth to say something biting but bit it back. Instead she said sadly, "He did suffer. A lot. I suffered watching it. Please, Neeshka, be kind to the Dead."

Neeshka kept her hand on Gann-as-Cat. "You know, Leona, I don't get it. You got this noble guy we're all risking our lives for _just in case_ _he's alive_, and this noble guy sitting on the table in an icky disguise for you. And the honor you defend is the guywho had to be in the _Afterlife_ to do a good deed. I mean, he's gone. He's the one of us who's truly gone. He's the one you've got to let go."

"Maybe. But he's the only one of us who died before he could do good. Don't you think that's sad?"

"Sure it's sad. You know what else is sad? No matter how long he lived, he'd have been the same damaged goods. So it took the Afterlife to make him whole. That's what the Afterlife does."

"Not this Afterlife. He was on the Wall." Leona felt it leave her lips before she realized she'd said too much.

"Wall, schmall. The point is he – wait. You were at the Wall?"

Leona rubbed her neck. "Let's not go into this tonight, Neeshka. Bishop found peace. That's all I'm saying now."

"Bishop found peace probably because you were there for him to _do good_ _upon_. Am I right? Am I right?"

_One thing about Neeshka: she doesn't give up_, thought Leona. _It helps when we're trying to unlock a door, but in conversation, it's brutal._ She turned her head away, and nodded, biting back tears.

"Thought so. Well, that's powerful stuff. You couldn't have given the man a better gift. You ask me, it ended as it should have. Nice that he learned his lesson, but he never really belonged here with us."

Leona tried to smile, and barely made it. "Why Neeshka, you sound positively wise. It's not like you, reckless demon-girl."

Neeshka gestured down to the now-sleeping cat. "It's him. Gann's good for me. Or maybe I just need a mangy cat to call my own."


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

After assembling on the boat, everyone took their places. Leona summoned Honus and they all sailed out of Luskan in the dead of night. They weren't the only ones scrambling to get away; Luskan being full of thieves and two-timers, it was like high noon with all the activity at the piers. No one would follow them where they were going, anyway. No matter what happened, they'd sail back down to Neverwinter, bypassing Luskan altogether. Any sailing past Luskan required checking in there, and they had covered their tracks as much as possible on the way in. But on the way back, if they cut the angle right, they could continue South of Luskan, bypassing the magical barriers forcing them to stop. But they'd barely talked about the way back. Success seemed too shaky to even mention.

Wild magic was rumored, and wild magic there was. Random weather changes, elemental balls overhead, whirlpools and creatures. But Sand was spot-on about Honus being protection. They sailed through it all as if through mirages. "Now if only we knew where to head," said Grizelda.

"We'll know," said Gann.

"What makes you so sure?" asked Leona.

"I can hear whoever is dreaming."

While sailing smoothly through the wild magic, the party discussed what might be waiting for them. Everyone agreed the magic would be very strong, serving as its own guard. The island was isolated enough that guarding it would be redundant, and any guards stationed there would be in danger from the magic that surely swirled about the place. Even if they were wrong, thanks to Gann the island would be asleep, anyway.

Three days later, the crew was getting tired. They were sailing straight West out to sea. Leona couldn't help wondering if they should be turning North or South, or if they would miss the manor by a mile either way. Over lunch that day everyone was quiet. No one dared ask the questions everyone wanted to know: how far would they sail out, and at what point would they give up?

At the noon meal it was quieter than usual. During one of the many long pauses, Gann said, "There are people on an island six miles North."

Sand raised an eyebrow. "People?"

"Dreamers. Three, right now. Humans. Two are women. And," he said with a pout, "there's not a single lusty dream among them."

Sand turned to Leona. "Shall we head there?"

She paused. "Hold our position and wait until night so Gann can get a sense of how many people are on the island."

"No need," said Gann, rising from the table. "I'll go have a chat with these dreamers right now. Give me an hour and I can tell you what they're doing there."

"Fair enough," Leona said. Gann left, and the meal continued in a deeper silence even than before.

Three hours later Gann returned with a satisfied, smug look on his face. "Sorry," he said. "One of those two ladies was a farmgirl." Ignoring the party's expectant faces, he said, "I can't get whole life stories, but desire I know something about. The two women desire nothing. Really, nothing at all. Not love, money, fame, children…I mean _nothing. _They're positively content. The man, strangely, seems to desire a hot mug of coffee and a visit with his childhood dog. I'd say this is your Island. These people are absolutely and positively boring as hell."

"Yes," said Sand mockingly, "apparently too much sex makes one _more _boring, instead of _less."_

"Too much of anything makes you boring," said Neeshka.

"Well, well, well," said Gann. "That's the first wise thing you've said since I've been back in human form."

Neeshka scrunched up her nose and switched her tail. "I think I liked you better as a mangy cat."

Gann leaned in close to her and said, "I gave you fleas."

"Ewwww! That's foul."

Grizelda turned the ship to head North, and they realized sometime later that Leona was out of sight.

Leona stayed in her cabin until Grizelda came down and said the island was visible. To keep calm, she started running through ideas for the future, in case she couldn't find Casavir there. She would sneak away from the party, and look for information herself in Luskan. She would go back to Ophala, and beg for more information on secret prisons. She would go to the Temple of Tyr at the Keep, and show such deep devotion that Tyr would tell her if Casavir was with Him or not. She would hunt down the Luskan Captain who started her on this wild chase, and make him tell her more. Now that she'd had a taste of hope, she knew, she wouldn't stop searching.

Upon seeing the island, she knew this was the place. It was at once visible and invisible, as if you could only see it out of the corner of your eye. The closer they got, the more repellant it was: she had a feeling, suddenly upon her, that she did _not_ want to go there. She wanted to ignore the island – wait, was there an island? She didn't see an island. They would just keep sailing North, for what they were looking for, which at the moment she couldn't remember just what that was.

Leona found herself at the stern of the ship with Sand, Khelgar, and Grizelda, all watching the water flow into a strong wake. They were all of them agitated, clearly feeling a sense of dread. Grizelda sat down on the ship's floor and put her hands over her ears. Sand seemed to be staring at something far away, to get his bearings. Khelgar was vomiting into the parted sea flowing behind them. It came to Leona in a rush that Neeshka and Gann weren't there. Practically against her own will, she ran towards the bow, until she saw Gann and Neeshka together at the helm, perfectly calm.

"Everyone got seasick at once," Neeshka said. "You look positively green."

"What – what are you doing?" Leona asked. "Are you trying to kill us? Steer away from this fog! It's making us sick! It will kill us. You have to turn back!"

Gann turned around finally, perfectly calm. "Ah, I see the problem. Neeshka, it looks like you and I are immune to the island's – ahem – 'charms.' Be so kind and take your friends below deck."

Neeshka shrugged. "Must be a demon thing."

"Imagine," said Gann. "It _is_ actually good for something."

Once below decks, vision cleared and minds centered. Leona realized that they had passed through very strong magic, that even Sand could not protect against. _Thank Tyr for Gann – again, _she thought. _Those not from our world have all kinds of strong power, like I did in his world. _

"This place –" said Grizelda between big gulps of water – "this place does NOT want to be found."

But find it they did. Within minutes they felt the bump of ship against land. Leona sank onto the nearest crate. She would wait until someone came to get her, before venturing out again. Whether Casavir was there or not, she had a feeling things were going to get far worse before day's end.

Besides, it was a few hours until dusk, and they'd agreed only to venture in when most inhabitants would already be asleep. Gann would keep them deep in dreamland while Neeshka disabled physical traps and Sand disabled magic ones.

Neeshka came in rubbing her hands together as if cold. "Not as we planned it," she said spryly. "But we landed on the island all the same."

"That…was…horrible," said Sand, still hunched over one of the pots. It was unusual for him to be caught off guard, and Leona didn't like seeing it either. It made her feel all the more vulnerable if Sand was even having trouble coping.

"Well, relax. Oh, Gann said he's cloaked us pretty well but could use some help, Sand. When you feel up to it, of course."

"Of course. Tell him…I'll be right up."

"Okee dokee," said Neeshka, and she bounced all the way up the stairs.

Khelgar groaned. "Nothing is worse than feeling like yer in a sewer, and seein' other people bounce around like it's their lucky day."

_Let's hope it's a lucky day,_ thought Leona. _We're going to need all the luck we can get._


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

As night fell, the party got more restless. Now that they had weathered the finding and sailing, they didn't know whether to show pride, exhaustion, hope, or fear. They still didn't know for _sure _this was the island. They didn't know much of anything, other than that they were still alive.

Neeshka suddenly got a scared look on her face. "What if there are male…_courtesans_ or something here, and they're all really good fighters and we're outnumbered 100 to one?

Sand and Gann, almost in unison, said, "No men will be stationed here."

"Why the hell not?" roared Grizelda, making Khelgar lean away from her, intimidated. "Are you saying there are no women locked up here who desire men? No men who could serve? What's with you wizard types?"

"You want to field this one?" asked Sand, turning to Gann.

Gann nodded, sure they were thinking the same thing. "For one thing, males are pitiful at resisting temptation. Any men on this island would, in time, succumb to its…charms. It could not be risked that they would spend all their time cavorting with the female courtesans, and not their charges."

Gann spoke these words as if they were plain as day, but everyone else (except Sand) squinted while trying to follow his logic.

"But there's the other reason, of course," said Sand.

"Of course," continued Gann. The other – more important – reason is that men are aggressive. This is not to say –" he put up his hand before Grizelda had a fit – "that women _can't _be aggressive. Let me finish. When women lure one to sex, it is seduction. When men lure one to sex, it is…often seduction as well, but it can be confused with force. Never on this island, should the prisoners be coerced. They must come to their alliances of their own free will, or else it is not the torture it claims to be."

Seeing unconvinced faces, Sand continued. "Imagine yourself a prisoner here, ladies. Imagine you are seduced every day by lovely, comely men. And imagine that every day, you push them away. How are they to tempt you, while you resist? If a woman draped over you, she'd be inviting. If a man draped over you, he'd be holding you down. That's not what this place is about."

"But I don't like women for sex," Neeshka said.

"You would here," Sand and Gann said at the same time.

"Impossible," Grizelda said. Khelgar let out a breath of relief.

"I think the spellcasters are right," said Leona. "This place is probably full of spells to make one weak, susceptible, and lustful. If they wanted to rape prisoners they'd send them someplace else. People are here to be broken mentally, not physically. Anyone could break here. Anyone at all." And as it dawned on both her and them what she was saying – that Casavir was all but forsaken – they all shuffled their feet and looked away, uncomfortable. Except for Gann, always at ease, who said, "but that's the saving grace, Leona. Everyone here has chosen, of free will, to break. You make peace with that, and you escape the bars of the prison altogether."

Everyone tried to fall asleep, but no one except the dwarves really did. In the middle of the night, Gann woke them all up. "Everyone is deeply asleep, and won't wake up until I say so. Do your worst." They rubbed their weary eyes, and prepared to go to work.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Casavir dreamed he was holding Leona's hand, walking along a rock cliff. He almost fell several times, and she pulled him back. "I should be the one giving you sure footing," he said.

"At least you can clearly see my face," she said. Then the dream dissolved into something else, and try as he could to remember, Casavir forgot it as soon as the next dream overtook him.

Leona sat below deck throwing daggers at a dartboard. The magic users and Neeshka had gone ahead to find and disable traps, and she and the dwarves were jittery. Finally word came that they were free to walk the Island, and as she took her first step off the boat Leona was truly afraid.

The grass was well-manicured and spongy – artificial. Moonflowers bloomed in all the right places, and water flowed as if carved into a map. This whole place was probably designed blade by blade of grass. Indeed, even without the magic, everything was placed with an eye for the sensual. Even at night she could tell the colors were vibrant. The scent of flowers was intoxicating, and the sound of water flowing was a perfect peace. As a ranger, she was more than charmed by the place. _If a ranger could have designed a haven, with all of the senses in mind, it would look much like this, _she thought. But with her logical mind still intact – and too focused on survival and rescue to be seduced – she found it orchestrated and false. The reason rangers loved nature as they did was that it _wasn't_ orchestrated; it was beautiful in its randomness. Leona couldn't help thinking of Bishop again, and the lovely secret glen he took her to a long time ago. She was thinking that a prison like this wouldn't work for him; he didn't have that kind of pride. The prison he got – being trapped up tight against frightened strange souls, unable to roam free – that was worse than anything else for him. And the prison Leona wound up with – as a soul devourer, for she who was kind and unmeddling – was her ironic perfect fit, too. She and Bishop had broken out of their prisons. Was it too much to hope that Casavir could do the same?

Leona padded across the fine lawn to the Manor, which she could now clearly see. The dwarves had weapons drawn, acting as scouts around her as she approached the structure. The magic users were at the doors whispering heatedly.

"I counted seventeen," Gann said.

"As did I," said Sand.

"Nope. Look again, boys. There are nineteen bedrooms here, and I do know how to count."

"You can't count the giant one with the bunks that was South of –"

Leona stepped up to the group. "Where do we start?" she asked.

"East," the other three said at once. Neeshka added, "It's where the girls stay. Most of them. Not that you need to see them, but just in case –"

"East it is," said Leona. "Stay close, dwarves."

They had exhausted a kitchen, dining area, four sitting rooms, and eleven of the bedrooms, not counting the large one with the bunks that contained a bevy of beautiful women, deep in slumber. Of the chambers, four were occupied by men. Leona hadn't thought about what she'd do about the other prisoners. She didn't feel she should take it upon herself to free them. Perhaps many of them really were criminals, and perhaps many of them were even content in a way. She knew Casavir was wrongly imprisoned, and she knew he once had – and could maybe have again – a life outside of this place. As she couldn't say the same for the others, she let them be.

"How do these guys not all run into each other, and stage a mutiny or something?" Neeshka was squinting in the dark, trying to figure out the physics of the Manor.

"Magic, child," said Sand. "All that we disabled. You could set it up so these men and women were practically on top of each other and they wouldn't even know."

"On top of each other, eh? I thought that's what they were here for!" Khelgar's great rumble of a laugh echoed through the silent halls as he slapped Sand on the back.

"Good thing they're all sleeping deeply," muttered Leona, her eyes already on the next door. So few chances left to find what she so desperately wanted.

Leona's companions were nothing but respectful of her emotions through the halls. Khelgar and Sand opened each door, did a quick check, and then they all left her alone to search it as she pleased. She made short work of each one; she wasn't here to spy or loot. Neeshka, however, was another story. Leona heard her footfalls in each room behind her once she'd left.

"What?" asked Neeshka when Sand gave her a paternal glare. "They're not here for the riches. A goblet here and parchment there isn't going to put this place out of business. Besides, we almost died back there. This will pay our way back."

"As if you'd share the loot with us," muttered Grizelda, hurrying along the hall to keep up.

As each of the rooms was searched, Leona braced herself for what she'd do at the end of the hall, if Casavir wasn't found. But she never thought to brace herself for what she'd do if he was.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The twelfth room was much like the others: perfectly clean and larger inside than it seemed, with noble furniture and art. It was at once bedroom and sitting room, with lots of open space, lush rugs, golden trim, and windows to the lawn. She moved to closer inspection of the man in the bed, her stomach swirling as it had done already eleven times before. She hated looking at these men wondering if they were her lover, but also it felt wrong and voyeuristic. Many of them were naked, or wrapped around women, and she felt dirty being invisible in their seduction.

This particular man was shirtless, and slept on his stomach. He had an arm draped around one woman to one side, and leg around a woman to the other. Leona almost backed out of the room without looking more closely; Casavir never slept on his stomach. But in the gleam of her torchlight, she saw a rune-shaped scar across the man's right shoulder. Casavir had gotten his shoulder scar in a fierce battle against a red dragon just after they had allied with the Ironfist Clan. That battle lasted hours, and Grobnar the Bard had almost died. Leona had had a singed right leg that luckily Zjhave had managed to soothe.

Leona shook her head. She had forgotten about his scar; she had forgotten so much about him in the past two years. But this could not be Casavir. This man's body was completely relaxed. It was not because of Gann's spell; some of the other men were positively twitching in their sleep. This person did not have the demeanor of a fighter, on edge and on guard. Still, two years is a long time. She moved to the side of the bed, and leaned the torch into the man's face.

Casavir had less muscle than she remembered, but he was still fit and clean-shaven. His hair was a little longer, but otherwise he was quite the same. Except that she had to admit he looked more peaceful than she'd ever seen him. What made Casavir a great warrior was that he always seemed to be fighting an internal battle at the same time, ever edgy and active. This Casavir, free of internal struggle, had no battles to fight, and his face was smooth with the ease. No warrior ever sleeps on his stomach. He had nothing to fear here; he was fully and completely safe.

Leona backed away, almost dropping her torch. What would she be bringing him back to? Day-long battles against dragons, cryptic orders from on high, nights on hard ground to wake early and fight yet again? Would he want to train again, for such a life? And if not, could he bear to be hers while _she _continued? It occurred to Leona, for the first time, that he was better off here. Maybe having broken – or given in – allowed him a peace he would never get outside this island. She could only offer him pain. She knew how he would hate that she saw him this way, unguarded and remade. If he wasn't broken already, that alone would split him in two. She couldn't take him out of here, and make him suffer all over again.

Leona cleared her face, cleared her throat, and stepped back into the hallway, shutting the door. "That's not him either," she said. "Let's try the next one."


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Several doors later, Leona could tell her companions were getting worried for her. Her mind was racing with how she should act after they got to the last door. She had to act upset but in control, accepting but just doubting enough to be believable. This would have to be her best performance; she was determined to protect Casavir from the hell that was real life. Clearly this arrested world of pleasure was better for him than his sad realities.

Soon Neeshka pushed ahead through the men and put her arm around Leona, comforting her. With their heads close together she whispered, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Leona stopped, determined to play this through. "What do you mean?"

"I've been in every room after you, Leona. Come on. Why don't you want them to know he's here?"

Leona cursed under her breath. She'd completely forgotten that Neeshka was looting the rooms after she left them. "I don't want to take him. I can't explain why right now. Can you trust me to make this decision? Please, Neeshka?"

"Sorry, no. We've all risked our lives for weeks, from planning to traveling through filthy Luskan to Khelgar losing his dignity, puking his brains out. I don't think after all that, you get to make this call alone."

Neeshka turned away, but Leona grabbed her arm. "Please, Neeshka. I've never seen him so content. He belongs here. He'll be happier."

Neeshka's eyes flashed their green as she jerked her hand away. "He's not content, you idiot. He's _tamed._ He's a lion in a zoo. This is not him being happy. This is you, afraid he's happy-er. I never took you for a coward, Leona. Let him make his own choices. He'd do the same for you."

"He most certainly would not; he's a Paladin." Sand was suddenly by their side, sly smile on his face. "I'm an elf, ladies. I can practically hear them talking in Luskan. Let's get our prisoner and get out of this filthy place."

"Oh, hell," said Leona.

"Hell to pay, indeed," said Sand, "when the others find out how you misled them. Tsk, tsk, ranger. Go back to the boat. Khelgar and I will transport him. I don't want Casavir seeing your face until it's healed."

"Healed from what?" Leona put her hands to her face, though she knew she had no wounds.

"From the one black eye each you'll probably get from the dwarves for lying to them. Run along now before their little legs catch you."


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Casavir awoke quietly to an unfamiliar sensation. He hadn't opened his eyes yet, and he felt like he was rocking. Thoughts still hazy, he wondered if he dozed off in the hammock again. No: the air was stale, the rocking more subtle. He smelled old scents, _real_ scents, like tobacco and sweat. He remembered their names, but couldn't connect them to anything he knew.

He spent a few minutes letting his senses adjust before opening his eyes. The smells were new, and the sounds betrayed a kind of silence. He heard occasional squeaks, and got the feeling he wasn't far from noise, even if he couldn't hear it directly. His Chamber was practically soundproof, though he'd never thought of it before, not since those first days. Gods, he hadn't thought about those first days in so long. How full of struggle he was, how miserable, how determined. How…_constrained_ he was, back then. Ironic, that he was less so, now.

Casavir then heard a clinking, like a spoon against bowl. It was sloppy, hurried, and conveyed poor manners. Not that _that _mattered anymore. As he opened his eyes, he saw only very close wooden paneling. He leisurely pushed up off of his stomach and rolled over to face the small cabin, disoriented and expectant. His blood almost ran cold as he saw what he wouldn't have expected in a thousand years.

"Khelgar?"

Khelgar grinned. "It's me, all right. Hope 'ye don't mind, I'm catchin' up on m' meals. Haven't been able to eat proper, bein' down here watchin' you night and day. Been two days you been down here sleeping. I think even Gann o' Dreams was startin' to wonder what you had goin'."

"Where am I? Surely you're not –"

"No, sir, no, I am not workin' at your prison, nor am I a captive. We broke ye out. If you're mad about it, you can blame me fer it. I was the one, said ye had to have a choice. No prison should hold a great man like you. If ye do nothin' with yer life, it's yours to live, now."

Casavir stayed seated, hands gripping the small bunk. He was trying to reconcile all Khelgar just said with what he knew to be true. He had not spoken about himself at all in ages. He realized suddenly that he'd actually forgotten he had a past. It was a strange sensation, years of memories flowing back just by seeing one small dwarf across the room. Khelgar had been a friend. He was apparently still a friend now, a very good one. He scratched his head, buying for time while he made sense of the jumble. All the while he was in his Chamber, people were living their lives out here. They were connecting to a past and a future. He hadn't done that since – when?

"How long was I…there?"

"Probably about two years or so. Been two years since the Battle, anyway. Thought ye might not be yourself by now. But eh, you remember me, so that's a start. I'm hard to forget, I know. Though I bet I'm the ugliest person you've seen in months, heh. Heh heh heh. Heh."

Khelgar started laughing so hard he began to cough. Casavir rubbed his eyes and leaned back into the bed, relaxed. Though Khelgar was in a jovial mood, he noticed all of Casavir's actions closely. When Casavir leaned back as he did, Khelgar finally felt he could take his hand off his dagger. There simply wasn't any fight in the man, for better or worse.

Khelgar also knew the question on Casavir's tongue, and he was going to wait for him to ask it. Silence right now was best to bring him up to speed. After a few minutes of no sound but rocking boat, Casavir asked,

"How did you know where I was."

"Luskan captain in the right place at the right time. It was a close thing. Thought you were dead for the longest time. Wasn't even sure it was you in the prison. Worth taking a chance though, 'an 'ere you are. "

Casavir nodded distantly, as if already thinking about something else. He was trying to remember how he got to that place. He remembered barely staggering away from the Battle – didn't want to think about the Battle – and being overpowered by Luskan troops. He probably passed out from pain, after the ribs and the leg…he was sure he just woke up in the Chamber, with the girls, each day blurring into the next after that. He was having trouble figuring out what mattered and what didn't. Surely there'd be a lot he should know. What would sort this out? The basics, first. Simple, first.

"Where are we going?"

"Back to the Keep, for now. We'll send word to Nasher that you've been recovered, and ensure his protection or some such. Nothin' you need to worry about. Nothin' but rest is in your future. No need to think past that, for now."

The Keep…when had he last thought of the Keep? He didn't want to go there. He definitely didn't want to go there.

"Who runs the Keep?"

Casavir had had his head down, but felt the pause, and looked up to see Khelgar uncomfortable and hesitating, clearly searching for the right answer.

"Do you run the Keep?"

"No, heh, no. I'm King of Ironfist now, you remember don't ye, and that's plenty of work o' course. Could use a queen, but don't need to bore you with that tale."

"Bore me. I haven't heard a tale in ages."

"Well ye see, there's this lass tough as nails, but she's so tough as not to give me an inch. I like a challenge but this could be beyond me. I haven't known her long, but I'm working on it. Patience isn't a dwarf trait, you remember."

Casavir didn't remember. So he didn't say anything, and the silence hung. After a few minutes, his voice got soft.

"Did she suffer?"

"This Grizelda? Ye think that's what made her tough? Well, some are just born that way. I don't know her well enough to ask her. Though an adventurer seen as much as she has, I'd bet she has."

"I meant…Leona. Did she suffer?"

There it was. "I won't lie to you, if you've come this far. She suffered. Missed you something terrible, she did. Did everything under the sun to get away but of course, you can't escape what's in yer – "

Khelgar was interrupted by a whoosing sound, which when he turned his head he saw was Casavir jumping to his feet.

"She's alive?"

"'Course she's alive, eh? She's who met the Luskan Captain what gave her the tip. Been all over callin' in favors to get you right here."

Casavir's face was so full of warring emotions that Khelgar couldn't keep up. "Stop right there. You really _did_ think her dead? I just told 'er that to get 'er to make the right decision, an' come and get ye."

Though his mouth opened, Casavir had nothing to say. Of course he thought her dead. He crumpled back down onto the cot, awash with regret and self-hatred. He'd like to say if he'd known she was alive he'd never stopped fighting off the ladies in his chambers. But he didn't know if that was true. He didn't know if he _had _thought her dead, when this started. Maybe he forgot she was alive, or convinced himself, to make it easier to give in. She had endured suffering, while he endured pleasure. And still she saw fit to rescue his wretched soul from the heart of a hedonistic palace. He'd always harbored a secret certainty that he was unworthy of what he received; now it was confirmed. He was like tin, bendable and hollow compared to her golden frame.

"Not sure what's goin' on in that head of yours, Paladin, but ye remember I'm a Monk now, certified and all. Think they told me somewhere that means I can give out advice whenever, and ye have to listen. So listen. Between you and me, she's still devoted tooth and nail to ye'. I'm not pressurin' ye, mind – I know ye got a long road back. I know yer hung up on the worthy this and the noble that. But she's not. So just remember that, eh? She'd like to see ye. But will wait for when yer ready. I know that means, even if it takes years. Just so you know, yeah?"

"Is she still the Captain of the Keep?"

"Yessir, and never there was a finer one. Not there much, anyway, off tryin' to forget, probably. Had a shit of an adventure after the Battle – fell into another world and had to fight off a curse. I'll let 'er tell ye about that. She met my Grizelda just after that, so it wasn't all bad. Look at me, callin' her mine already. If she thinks half as highly of me as Leona does of you, I'd take it."

Khelgar stood up. "Leave you to yer thoughts, now. You'll understand why I lock this door behind me. Pull the bell if you want me to come back, anytime. And Paladin?"

"Yes."

"Whatever happened there and then, it was meant to trap ye. Don't let it."

"Thank you for the rescue. Thank you for risking your life for me."

"Ach. You'd have done the same, I know it. Get some rest."

"She'll be waiting when we get to the Keep?"

"She'll be waiting when you get to the upper deck. Was she who led the mission to get ye."

"Now. I want to see her now."

Khelgar smiled. "Glad to hear it, old friend. She will be too. Sit tight and I'll send 'er down. Don't mind the bruises she's got. Was me what gave 'em to her. Personal dispute, we'll leave it at that."


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Though they'd tried not to talk about it, none of them could help it while they waited. "Let's face it," said Grizelda, "None of us thought we'd find him, and be comin' back alive. Now we're safe we can speculate."

"Speculate. Big word for a little woman," said Gann, staring off to sea as if looking at something in the distance.

"Big fightin' words from a Hagspawn. Watch it." Grizelda took a step forward and Gann ignored her, still looking out to sea.

Strangely ever the diplomat, Neeshka brought the subject back around. "Bet he'll ask to be taken back because he's not worthy to stay."

Sand chimed in. "Bet he'll refuse to see Leona."

"Oh yeah, three months at least."

"Six."

"Care to make a wager, Wizard?"

"Gladly, Neeshka." Sand and Neeshka wandered off to cement their deal, when Gann leaned back over to Leona. "You bothered?"

Leona sighed. "No. Not by all that. I suddenly feel like I did him a disservice."

Gann stayed quiet, which was unusual for him.

"When I saw him there – sleeping on his _stomach _– he seemed…I don't know. Better off. Smoothed out. He was always on edge, on and off the battlefield. He carried so much weight. He was light there."

"The simplicity of a prison is often an easier life to bear." Gann turned fully toward her now. "But Leona, it's a coward's way out. From what you tell me, Casavir is not a coward. If he's truly a brave man, he'll find the courage to live in this hard world with some lessons he learned there. Freedom is sometimes quite burdensome. Some would rather not have it. I don't think he's one of those. If he doesn't know that now, he will someday. He owes you much gratitude for the gift of trust you've bestowed."

"Trust?"

"Yes, trust. You trust him to make the most of newfound freedom. You trust him to create a new life out of so much and so little. You trust him to do what's right for himself, and right by you. You believe he can overcome what he has been and not been. Imagine what we each could accomplish, if we each had someone who held us such high regard."

"Maybe I don't. I did want to leave him there."

"If that snap decision was at all for yourself, it was because you feared his disappointment. You know he'll say he can never be good enough, now. Maybe you wanted to spare both of you that long road. But this is the kinder thing, though it doesn't feel it now."

Neeshka had returned and was rolling her eyes. "Here he is getting all poetic again. Save it for the bards, Gann. Come play darts with us."

Just then Khelgar had reappeared.

Everyone was surprised when Khelgar reported that Casavir was awake, lucid, and wanted to see Leona. In spite of themselves, they all turned to look at her. She was ragged from lack of sleep, wearing dusty and unassuming clothes to fit in at Luskan bars, and she did have bruises on her arm from Khelgar's wrath about the Manor. "I oughta poison you and make you hurl over the edge, too," were his exact words. No, Leona did not look her best. But it wasn't because of that that she started to shake.

Gann came up behind her and held her arms. "It's ok. It's ok, Leona. He's not angry."

"I know it now," said Leona, whole body shivering now. "He will hate me for what I've done."

"You RESCUED him!" shouted Grizelda.

"Plus," said Khelgar, "he thought you were dead."

Silence, then. From everyone. Leona surprised all when she said, "He would have been better off that way. He could have let me go, and finally stopped fighting."

"Is that what you really think he would have wanted?" Sand frowned as he spoke; there was too much emotion in her logic. "To not know the truth? To waste away years without a choice? A man like him? Rubbish."

"But I made his humiliation public," said Leona softly. "He will be relieved I live, and then he will hate me. I will be punished for this good deed."

"Not in the way you think," said Gann.

Leona whirled on him. "Oh, so you can see the future now?"

Gann-of-Dreams, calm as ever. "No, but Safiya can, a little. We had a talk when we met again. Don't ask me because I know no details. Let's just say that she doesn't seem to see rage and rejection as a part of this equation."

"Would have been nice to know that _ before_ we risked our lives without knowing he was here."

Sand, who was Safiya's lover, spoke in her defense. "It's not like she knew he was alive, Leona. She saw something…unexpected. She assured us it wasn't your death, and said nothing would stop you going so it wouldn't matter. You know how stubborn she is. There was no point in pushing."

"We are going to have a talk, she and I, when we get back to the Keep." And with that Leona squared her shoulders, and marched past her onlooker-friends to the cabin below.

Casavir studied his own physical response like an indifferent doctor: he thought he must be nervous. His stomach felt a little jumpy, and he didn't want to sit still. This was a sensation he hadn't had in years, and it thrilled him and frightened him. His dulled mind couldn't really keep up with whether he should be feeling _more _nervous at seeing his old lover. That was the way he used to think, judging its emotion for its integrity. Damn, was that exhausting. That would be one habit he'd like to keep broken.

When the knock came, he stayed on his bed and said, "Come in." Once he'd relented in the Chambers, the Ladies had given him more privacy, still visiting and moving him at random times but more attentive to his rhythms. If he didn't ask them to come in, they would anyway. But at least they pretended to respect his needs. When the door opened and Leona appeared, it was no surprise to him. For months now women had been opening his door and coming in gingerly. But her face. As soon as he saw her face again he knew he could never have fully forgotten it.

She shut the door behind her, and put her back against it. Then she turned to look at him, cocked her head, and warmly said, "Casavir."

Neither of them knew what to expect, and neither of them were prepared when Casavir quickly crossed the room and embraced her, closely. "I thought you were dead."

"I know. I thought you were dead too."

A few moments passed, then Casavir released her without any more affection, and went back to sit on the bed. She crossed the small room and sat at the chair where Khelgar had eaten his meal. Silence passed for minutes, in semi-comfort, where they seemed to go back and forth between enjoying sharing space with someone back from the dead, and discomfort at knowing how to go forward.

Casavir spoke first. "Who died, in the Battle?"

Leona sighed. Of all the questions, really, truly uncanny. That her first words to him would include his rival's name? "Only Bishop. And Ammon Jerro went back in service to his demons."

"Sounds like we all did," said Casavir. And then silence again.

Leona spoke next. "Casavir. I have much I want to tell you. About what happened to me, where I've been, who I've seen and talked to. To be honest I don't know how much you would want to hear, now, tomorrow, or ever.

"I also am willing to hear whatever you might have to tell me, be it now, tomorrow, or ever. I can only say that I put no demands on you. We came to get you out because we felt you should be out. You owe us nothing. I know you saved many lives in the Battle. Ammon Jerro told me you had died helping others. You deserved your life back. Whatever you do with it…well, I can only say that I would be a part of that life if it suits you, when it suits you."

There was a long silence. And then Casavir responded.

"I have one question for you now. There will be others."

"Anything."

"Would you have come to break me out of prison if Bishop had lived?"

Leona's eyes grew so wide she got dizzy. That was not at all a question she'd expected. "If Bishop had lived, I wouldn't have been able to rescue you because I would be dead. He broke my curse, from his Afterlife. And where the hell were you?"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them, of course. But there it was. She had named the thing she knew he was most ashamed of: letting her suffer without his help. She knew there was no way to make it right. But still she said, "Casavir, I'm sorry. I know you had no choice."

Casavir was not going to fight her: he'd forgotten how. "No. You're right. I didn't know you were alive. I didn't know. There was nothing left to fight for."

"Ophala said –"

"_Ophala_?"

"Ophala said that two weeks was the most anyone could last there. No matter who you are." She pulled her chair closer to his bed. "I don't blame you. I really don't. I was angry that you would think…that anything could stop me from coming for you."

Casavir chuckled wryly. "Two weeks, she said? Fourteen days. It took me sixteen. Should I be proud?"

Leona took his hand. "Sixteen days with nothing to fight for? I'll say."

Casavir tried to smile, but turned his head to the side. "Even years between our reunion, and he still comes between us."

"Not to me, he doesn't. No. Only to you."

_Listen to yourself, _thought Casavir. _You've slept with dozens of women these years, and yet you're still holding a grudge over that one. But he was like her, he was a ranger, and you had so little to offer in comparison. Look at what a hypocrite you are now. She wants to tell you her tales, after knowing what that prison was, and your first words are spiked with jealousy for a dead man._

And just like that, the self-loathing was back.

Leona climbed the stairs numb. Not crying, not angry, not much of anything. She'd tried not to think too much about what to expect, so she couldn't say it was worse than she thought. But still, she didn't think Bishop would come up. She thought she could leave that behind. As she climbed up she realized that time had frozen for Casavir. She'd lived out the years making peace with the past. But he lived in an arrested state, as if awakened now from amnesia. Where he left off, Bishop was still there. But Bishop, out of his own jealousy, turned on the whole Keep. It was _his_ fault, actually, that the Battle happened the way it did. In the end he turned and fought for the right side, but it was too late. Had he lived, Leona could no longer have trusted him. It was over, and Casavir should have known that. Had he forgotten, all that had been said that day before the battle? She wanted to march back down and remind him, but didn't bother. It was over for now. Casavir was simply two years behind.

"Well?" Neeshka wasn't afraid to ask when Leona walked into the common room. She was hoping to avoid it but better to get it over with, like resetting a bone.

"He, uh…he wants some time to uh…"

"He doesn't want to see her." Gann cut in with characteristic charm. "Is it just for a while, Leona, or forever?"

"He, uh…doesn't know."

"Ah." Everyone avoided everyone else's eyes. Except Neeshka, who slipped Sand some coins with a scowl on her face.


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Upon the return to the Keep, Casavir was set up in the Temple of Tyr upon his request. Though sure he was forsaken by his God, he didn't want to be at the main quarters because he wanted separation from Leona. Also he felt comfortable at the Temple, and at least practicing ritual devotions would keep him functioning in a new life. Only the party – and a few close friends like Safiya – knew where exactly he had been. Everyone else rejoiced quietly at his return. Lord Nasher, once informed, quickly put his protection upon him should Luskans come looking. But none did. The Manor Prison was a life sentence, and it seemed no one cared to check up on the residents.

Leona barely dropped off her belongings before she was knocking on Safiya's door. When Safiya answered, her face fell. Apparently Leona had gotten there before Sand.

"Oh, Safiya, he's..he's fine. We're all fine. Casavir is…he's been rescued. He's at the Temple." _The Temple I had built for him_, she wanted to add.

"Well that is excellent news. Come in. Was it a hard journey?"

"There yes, back no. But you know getting there is always harder."

"At least it was for us on our journey together. Come and sit."

Once pleasantries were over, Leona started to get angry again. They'd shared close quarters together, and many emotions through their travels. There was no truth she needed to hide from her friend, and was angry that she didn't feel the same.

"Safiya. Sand and Gann told me you saw something."

Safiya chuckled. "Yes, you could call it that. Something."

Leona paused, and then burst. "Why the _hell_ didn't you _tell_ me?"

"Because it had no bearing on your journey. I knew you would go. I knew I could not dissuade you."

"There is much that could have dissuaded me, if the information was right."

"I doubt that. And visions are never written in stone, you know that. Most of them never come to pass. Telling you anything could have even endangered your mission."

"That's your excuse?"

Safiya pursed her lips. "I don't need an excuse, Leona. The vision came to me. If the Gods wanted you to know it, it would have come to you."

"Or maybe They know I don't SEE visions and they wanted YOU to TELL me!"

Safiya's voice got low. "Something went wrong with Casavir, then. Or else you wouldn't be here blaming me."

"I was blaming you before I even spoke to him. Maybe you could have helped."

"What I saw would not have helped. What was the prison like?"

"Why, wanting to take a vacation?"

"Don't be crass. What was it like?"

Leona sighed and let Safiya have this one thing. "It was truly a Manor, a series of rooms separated by magic, and a lot of girls."

"Was his room red?"

Leona got mad again. "Damn it, you DID see it."

"You saw that too. You told me you dreamt of it. Do you not remember? Was it as _you_ saw it?"

"No. It wasn't. But it might have been as _you_ saw it. You could have saved me so much heartache, Safiya, why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't see him in the room. I saw you."

"Well, yes, because I was the one going in to –"

"You misunderstand, Ranger. I saw you there…not as rescuer. I saw you there as prisoner."

Casavir didn't care much about his reputation anymore, but he hated being looked at. At first, people were stopping to congratulate him, welcome him, slap his back or buy him drinks. He spent less and less time in public, not that he was ever a big pub-goer. He had weekly meetings with Ivarr, who led the Temple, but though Ivarr knew he was isolating himself to ruin, he could not change his ways.

The only thing he did do, that brought him out of his new Chambers, was the ladies. He had left behind plenty of coin at the Keep, and the only thing he wanted to use it for was those small reminders of the only comfort he could remember. Drinking wasn't a ritual that worked well for him, and he was no longer adventuring to keep his mind clear. But the ladies gave him their full attention, took his will away and made all choice simple. When he was with the ladies, he wasn't with anything else. That kind of focus was worth paying for.

Seeing Leona was out of the question. He could make himself worthy of the Ladies by paying enough, but there was not enough coin in the world to pay her the debt he felt he owed.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in." Neeshka and Gann were at Sal's pub swapping stories, when they saw Casavir breeze down a side hall. "If it isn't our favorite lover."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Neeshka. We're just having drinks, you and I."

"Not you, silly. Casavir. You missed him. He went into the side rooms."

"Pity. I should have liked to have met him, and told him just what a fool he was being."

"You don't have to be in the pub to do that. But for my part, I'm glad Leona dumped you and he's back."

Gann rolled his eyes. "It wasn't _like_ that. No one dumped anyone. We didn't fit, after a time. Still, I of all people should probably not be the one confronting the man."

"On the other hand, you might be the only one who could."

Gann despised Gods. He already hadn't liked Them too much, but after meeting a few in his journeys with Leona and Safiya, and seeing how They treated Their believers, he was positively repelled. It took all of his tongue-biting not to argue philosophy with Ivarr, the head of the Temple. But instead, he merely explained he was there to visit Casavir, and would be happy to wait until he returned.

Hours later, Casavir returned bleary-eyed and ready for sleep. He wasn't drunk – he was rarely drunk – but it was clear that he tired himself as much as possible so that sleep was ready to take him when he hit his cot. Gann didn't need to be a Dream-walker to see that the man wasn't sleeping well. He waited a few minutes, and then knocked politely. After some shuffling, Casavir opened the door a crack.

"Yes?"

"Casavir, am I right?"

"Yes." _Great,_ Casavir thought. _Another admirer or some such. Though I haven't seen this blue-tinted type around here, ever, really._

"My name is Gannayev. Gann. I'm a friend of –"

"Khelgar's. He mentioned you when I first came back. Do come in."

Gann seemed surprised at that, but came in and sat down, leisurely.

"You know who I am?"

"Not at all. Khelgar mentioned you. I assume you were in my rescue party?"

"Drove the boat, and calmed the natives."

"Then I owe you my thanks."

"And yet that is not why I am here."

Casavir stiffened. He could tell where this was going, and wasn't in the mood – wasn't ever in the mood – for a talking to.

Gann stood up. He always lectured better when pacing. "Leona's heart aches."

"If you're here to ask me to see her, I can assure you her heart would ache more if she did."

Gann paused his pacing to meet Casavir's eyes. "Allow me to give you my full disclosure. I, along with Sand's new lover Safiya, was one of Leona's companions while she was cursed."

"Then you apparently met the ever-popular Bishop."

"Briefly, and brief was plenty for me. If he hadn't already been dead, I might have killed him myself."

At that, Casavir chuckled, and visibly relaxed. "Then perhaps we have at least one thing in common."

"Oh, we have more than one. Leona and I were lovers, for a time."

Casavir made no movement, but his face looked stretched, as if battling many emotions. _Of course she would love him. He's confident and unabashedly capable. There's not a cell in his body that lacks esteem._ His face must have twisted a little, because Gann reacted to his expression.

"Come, now. You had many lovers while separated. She had only one. That I know of. But I think it was only me. I digress. I do not tell you this to hurt you. She talked about you often on our journey. If even half of what she said is true you are a God among men."

Casavir shook his head. Gann continued.

"I want you to know that one, she thought you dead. She would never have coupled with anyone, had she thought you lived. And two, she eventually broke with me, _because she still couldn't put you to rest._ It's been two years since your Great Battle. Only one of those she spent cursed, with Safiya and me. The second of those years was spent, for her, wandering and trying to reconcile your death."

"And for you?"

"I spent it probably as you spent it, except I went looking for it in the dreams of young farm girls. They're my weakness. No harm done, I assure you – to me or the farm girls. Until she called me here, to rescue _you." _Gann opened his hands, as if being frisked and showing he had no weapons. "So as you can see, I have no hard feelings. Over time I expect you won't, either. I'm not a threat to you. Unless you keep her hurting. And then you may consider yourself threatened."

"Gannayev. Whatever tales she told you, I am unable to be the man she needs any longer. She doesn't know that. I do know. I am trying to _spare_ her pain."

"And yet it is not working. She is not spared. Think of it this way: did you know she almost left you on the Island, after she found you?"

At that Casavir looked surprised, but said nothing. There was no judgment either way on his face.

"Yes. She saw you, free and unfettered, and figured she would – how do you put it – 'spare you pain.' Wait, wait –" Gann held up his hand – "you're about to say, she should have left you there and done you both a favor. But simple solutions don't work for her, or for you. That's why you became adventurers. What you want, both of you, is the spectrum upon which to make bad choices. By choosing to rescue you, in the end, she allowed you the cage of freedom, so to speak. By refusing to see her, you are denying her the same."

Gann paused for a minute to let his words sink in, then added: "You're not being equitable. And though you are the first paladin I've met, I hear paladins are nothing if not equitable. You steal her choices – even her bad ones – and that is undeniably ignoble. She's a big girl."

Casavir scowled. "Bishop said that to me once."

"About her? Indeed. Well, Bishop clearly had many flaws. But I bet getting in his own way wasn't one of them."

Casavir paused and then stood as well. "Many of your words sound like what Tyr might have said to me, were I still hearing Him."

"Well, I have no empathy there. I disrespect all Gods. I have far too many examples of their perfidy."

"I stand behind my adoration of Tyr."

"Good for you. I feel self-important enough to speak blasphemy, and say maybe your Tyr speaks through me. And if Tyr doesn't feel the same for you, he's as perfidious as all the other Gods I've known."

Gann glided towards the door and looked back. To his surprise, Casavir put out his arm.

"You are trying to do right by her. I respect that, Gannayev."

Gann met Casavir's arm. "I hope that someday soon, Casavir, I will be able to say the same to you."

And as confidently as he'd come, he breezed out, leaving Casavir blinking with fatigue in the draft of the open door.


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

As usual, Leona hid in her work, and as usual there was much work to do. It was a near-perfect balm for an aching soul. _When has my soul __**not**__ been aching, _she asked herself. It had been years upon years, since before even meeting Khelgar. _Except when I didn't have a soul. But then I had a longing, a hunger, and that was just as bad. _

It was late, and she was wrapping up a day of public hearings. Usually she left this work to Kana, who pretty much ran the Keep since Leona was away so often. But today she wanted to hear the needs of regular people, people just like her who lived at the Keep and had troubles. It made her feel better, to think she could sort out someone else's problems. Mostly they were issues of land rights, dying crops, or need of protection. No one yet had come asking about breaking out of sex prisons, soulless curses, or friends who had disturbing visions. It was easy work in comparison to her own life, and she welcomed it.

Kana had been back and forth with papers all evening. Just as they were wrapping up, Kana hustled back in. "Knight Captain, my apologies, this is highly irregular but –"

Leona looked up, bleary-eyed from the last of the scrolls. "Of course, Kana. What else is needed?"

Kana leaned in close and whispered, "It's Casavir. He's, er, here in the waiting room, seeking an audience with you."

Leona sighed. She barely had the patience for one more signature, and if Casavir was here this meant a long night ahead, probably arguing. She wanted to hope that he was suddenly cured of his shame. But over three months had passed, and she'd heard nothing from him. Plenty of rumors swirled and she tried to keep her ears out of them. _There is no easy day to face it_, she thought, _so it might as well be today. _"Send him in, and you're dismissed for the night," she said wearily. Kana nodded and left, door swinging and staying open behind her.

Casavir entered briskly, as if there on business. He didn't wear armor anymore, but even as a civilian he stood out, tall and fit. He greeted her. "Knight Captain."

"Oh, so we're back to that. You may call me Leona. Please, sit down." He did, and she moved to sit in a closer chair, without the formal desk between them. "The last time you visited after working hours, the night ended in quite a display. I take it you have more mundane reason to visit me, this time?"

Even the serious paladin couldn't hold back a smile. "I relish that memory, Leona. But I do not come with the same emotional infusion this evening." Indeed, he seemed resigned, almost devoid of strong emotion. Truly, a man who'd been all too submissive from a long stay in prison.

"I'll cut to the chase. Gannayev paid me a visit."

"Did he? How I wish I'd been a fly on the wall."

"No need. I will tell you what he told me. I know you were lovers. I know he cares deeply for you, but does not desire a romance with you. I know you almost left me in the prison. And I know that you wish not to be ignored by me."

Leona wasn't sure which to respond to, so she stayed silent.

"Given this," he continued, "I know much more about you than you do about me."

Once again Leona's tongue spoke before she thought carefully. "I know you visit women who you pay for sex. I know you pay for sex, often, and yet the one woman who wants you for free, you withdraw attention from completely. Does this make any sense to you?"

"You don't understand, Leona. It wouldn't be free. I'm not who I was."

"Neither am I who I was. You lost pride, perhaps. I lost my _soul._"

"I daresay your soul is an easier thing to lose."

Leona's temper was sparking again. "I don't recommend it. Nor do I recommend the way I got it back."

"Tell me." Casavir, no longer much of a fighter in action, wasn't a verbal fighter, either. He didn't seem to value winning an argument anymore, which both infuriated Leona and also diffused her anger.

"All right. My curse was centuries old. It came from the first crusader against the Wall of the Faithless. The curse forced me to devour others' souls, and we traveled – Gann and Safiya and I – to the Wall to retrieve my own soul again. We met Kelemvor himself. I retrieved my soul but He would not allow us to break down the Wall."

Casavir bowed his head. "Kelemvor is a just God. He has been the most noble of all Gods of the Dead."

"Yes. But the Wall stands. If you saw it, Casavir…it haunts me. I wish I had been able to destroy it."

"And Bishop…was on the Wall?"

Leona lowered her eyes. "Yes. He gave me a mask that allowed me safe passage, and protected me. He disappeared from the Wall after that."

"Gann said he was unpleasant to the last."

"He was. But his actions, not his words, always mattered to me."

"Like the action of rigging open our gates to let the Shadow Army through?"

"Do we need to go over this now? Bishop made some terrible, terrible choices. He almost cost us the War. But Casavir. He was on the Wall. It was horrific. You should pity all who spend time there."

"I could pity him and yet he got so much of you, even while dead. He got to aid you while in need. Was it the evil in him you cared for? Maybe with my morals worn down to a nub, now, this is my irony."

"I cared for Bishop because he was unapologetic about what he wanted. I would expect the same of you. And I cared for Bishop in spite of the evil, not because of it. I would do the same for you. I _am_ doing the same for you."

As if Casavir had been slapped, he did not respond right away. When he did, his voice was calm, again refusing to fight with her. "I know this. Even now I find that my best is not my truth. But this is your story, not mine. Yours is truly a harrowing tale. It would scar any warrior, even one as capable as you."

"What we saw there…it's made me so…"

"Lonely."

Leona looked astonished, that he had found the right word. "Yes. Lonely. I'm isolated, alone in my suffering."

"Why didn't you stay with Gann?"

"You mean because he shared my lonesome journey?"

"Yes."

"I wasn't ready. And I don't think he was, either. He reunited with his mother and she was quite mad by then. Once the journey was over, our shared experience seemed less important than all we didn't share."

Leona took a deep breath in, and tried to continue. "Casavir, I hope you understand. About my leaving you in the prison…this feeling of coming back to the world after suffering…it's been so hard for me. So, so hard. I knew it would crush you as it crushed me. I didn't want to cause you pain. I had no choice but to come back: my soul was at stake. But you, you could have –"

"It's all right, Leona. I understand. "

"I can't imagine what you –"

"My plight was nothing, compared to devouring souls and pulling them off the Wall. Nothing. A speck of dust."

"And yet you know how isolated I am, because you are isolated too."

Casavir looked down. "Yes."

"Tell me, what it was like for you."

"You know I can't."

Leona pushed: now was the time. "Because you're ashamed?"

"Because it's indescribable. Each day different yet the same. The freedom as the cage itself. It warps the mind. Nothing mattered anymore. I stopped caring. I can't describe it to you, Leona, you who cared so much you tried to break down a Wall in the Afterlife, the stuff of legends. Your journey was one of not giving in; I gave in countless times each day. You persevered; I relented. There is no way for you to understand. That's why I've stayed away so long. I'm alone in this. There's simply nothing you can do, to really and truly understand my plight."

Leona thought of Safiya, and her vision, and suddenly understood all.

"There is one thing," she said. "There is _only_ one thing. Go home for the evening, and I will call for you in the morning. I know what will make this right." He asked, but she would not answer. "Until tomorrow," she said. He left, thinking of tomorrow for the first time in years. And for the first time since his return from the Manor, he didn't stop by the rooms behind the pub before heading to his chambers at the Temple.

The next morning, Leona called a meeting in the War Planning room. Present were Casavir, Gann, Safiya, and Sand. Safiya and Casavir had not met, so Safiya welcomed him back and echoed Gann's words of how highly Leona had spoken of him on their journeys.

Then Leona began. "I need your help, each of you. There is something I need to do, and I am asking for your aid. None of you will want to do this. So before I discuss it, I want you to call up your loyalty. To your Knight Captain, your friend, whatever you think of me. I will order you if I have to. This _will_ be done and I will not change my mind."

The air in the room got very tense, except for Gann, who as always looked as relaxed as if he were on a social call.

"I am going to spend time in the Manor Prison."

Casavir had a habit of standing up when he got emotional, and he was definitely on his feet now. Gann stayed where he was, barely moving, but with a smirk spreading across his face. Safiya covered her head with her hands, surely feeling responsible given her vision. Sand leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes, as if dealing with an insolent child.

But no one spoke.

"I am going to the prison because I need to know what it is like. I need to understand. I am the Captain of the Keep, and it is my responsibility to face any potential threats. It's essential that I know how to handle myself in this situation."

"Come off it, Leona," said Sand. "It's not a training mission. Don't insult our intelligence."

Safiya asked, "Would you be going if it weren't for my vision?"

"Does it matter, now?"

"Only so I know who to call the Idiot: you, or me."

Casavir's voice silenced them all. "You cannot do this."

"I will do it. I need to understand."

Sand groaned. "Can't he just _tell_ you what it was like?"

Leona looked right at Casavir. "No, I don't believe he can."

"I'm curious," Gann spoke up. "After your return from the prison – if you _do _return – will Casavir then become a soul-devourer and pry his own soul from the Wall of the Faithless? Because if not, I'm not really sure this is a fair trade."

"For that matter," added Sand, "perhaps you could acquire some paladin skills, and he a bow and arrow, hmm?"

Safiya chimed in. "Hey, you could become one person. Then you would never actually have to tell each other anything."

"You cannot do this," Casavir repeated.

Leona gestured at Safiya and Sand. "The two of you: what would you give, to be able to understand – deeply – each other's suffering? In those moments when you're not sure whether to go to them or give them space, in those moments when no words will do? What would you give to be able to empathize, so that you don't judge them? Who among you would _not_ do that for a lover?"

"Me. I would not do that for a lover," said Gann.

"That's because your lovers are always asleep."

"Low blow, Safiya. I'll have you know that out of all the –"

Casavir walked towards Leona, ignoring the bickering behind him. "You cannot do this. You cannot think that this, of all things, would equalize us."

"I do not strive to be your equal. I strive to know what cannot be told."

"When do we leave?" asked Gann. He seemed to have no problem with the plan.

"In a week. Prepare the boat. Tell no one but Khelgar where we're going."

"Neeshka?"

"Nope. Not unless she comes, if you think that's better, Gann. If she stays she can't know; she tells stories when she's drunk."

"Don't I know it."

"Save it for the dreams. You'll be steering again. You're all dismissed. You have much to prepare for."

"I think this is a mistake."

"Of course you do, Sand. You always do. But it's my mistake."

Gann leaned over to Casavir before he left. "I told you: she's got to make her own mistakes. This may well be one. But let her make it. If you love her at all, let her make it."

Casavir stayed behind. He wanted to argue her out of the decision, but he'd been around her as a leader long enough to know how unwavering she could be. All the same, he didn't want her to think he agreed at all with her decision.

"How long will you stay?"

"I don't know."

He narrowed his eyes, and grabbed her arm. It had been so long since they had really touched – other than their brief reunion hug – that it was as if little sparks shot through them both. "You will stay sixteen days, no more. On the sixteenth day I will come for you myself." He paused, tone switching from commanding to pleading. "Please. I would suffer too much if you stayed any longer."

Surprised and impressed that he was letting her go without a fight, she allowed him this concession. "Sixteen days, then. I don't intend to try to hold out as long as you."

"Remember: this is a prison, Leona. What you intend has no bearing on what you will receive."


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Because they knew the way, Leona and the crew could sail directly from Neverwinter, bypassing the entire Luskan checkpoint. Though this made the trip shorter, the mood was grim. No one agreed with Leona's decision, and they all felt secretly guilty for not putting up more of a fight. Leona, though, was in a fine mood. She didn't act like someone about to be imprisoned; she acted like someone about to attend a special school. She and Gann laughed a lot, while everyone else maintained stern, disapproving faces.

When they got a few miles out, the deterrent this time was emotional, not physical. Everyone but Gann (and Neeshka, who Gann did decide to take along) felt such a deep sense of dread that brought out the worst in them, even without the nausea. Leona started to cry, Sand curled up in his bunk, Casavir dropped down to pray, and Safiya sat rocking in a corner, swaying and chanting. Again, once they bumped aground, the dread quickly ceased, and Leona's resolve was strengthened again. This time they happened to arrive well past dark, so Gann went about his dream-work while Sand and Neeshka disabled traps. Same break-in, but now, they were smuggling precious cargo in, not out.

"I can't believe she's doing this," hissed Sand while working on the traps through the entry hall. "Some of these spells I'm disabling dull the mind, fog it up. She'll be lucky to return mentally whole."

"Well, Casavir did it. But anyway, you know what I can't believe?" agreed Neeshka. "I can't believe we're going to have to come back and do this whole hellish trip again. Nobody should have to go through that once, let alone three times,"

"Agreed," said Sand as he nodded, while concentrating on the magic in the air.

As before, Leona was left waiting for the others to finish, but this time only Casavir was with her instead of the dwarves. There was still a discomfort between them, made all the harder by what Leona was about to do. The last time they'd seen each other before the rescue was at the Battle, when chaos reigned. Defeating the King of Shadows caused walls to crumble in, and no one could see let alone find their companions. Leona remembered only glimpses of her wounded friends before waking up to a pain in her chest and a foreign cavern. Safiya was there, and her new journey began.

They had spent many nights in the dungeons before that Battle; the promise of a return to the Keep seemed less and less possible the deeper they went. By then, Bishop had already turned against them and hadn't yet appeared to confront (and ultimately aid) the party. Despite the cold, dark nights, the hours were uncomplicated for Leona and Casavir. Both agreed that to fight properly, they had to keep their distance by day. But at night, they shared bedrolls, for comfort. Looking at her old lover now, Leona could barely believe that before they parted for two years, they'd awakened that morning together, just as they had for many weeks before. Then curses and Luskans got in the way, and they wound up here, jaded and awkward. It seemed unfair. Leona wasn't sure the love they shared was even redeemable, anymore. But she was going into the Manor of the Sirens, all the same.

"You can still change your mind, you know."

Leona looked over and found her old lover's face softer than she'd seen it in a long time. "You don't think the crew would have my head for going through all that dread for nothing?"

"They don't want you to go. We'd all be relieved to see you safely home."

"I know. They don't know why I have to do this. But I think you do."

"I know only that I would, in your place. But it doesn't sit well to receive such a gift."

She went over to him then and, not sure how it would be received, planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. "You are being very gracious. Thank you for not making this harder."

Before she moved away from facing him, he grabbed her arms, staring intently at her. "Sixteen days. We will not leave you here. You must remember this."

Leona smiled. "You really think I will forget?"

"I really think you will. Perhaps it just makes me feel better to say it again and again."

"Sixteen years is only a tiny fraction of two years."

"Yes, but I spent two years here without hope. What is time when you have no reason to watch it pass?"

Gann appeared. "We're ready. Don't tell me you're having second thoughts. They'll kill you."

Casavir lightened his grip, but before Leona leaned away she leaned in and whispered, "told you."

"Sixteen days," was all he said, as if willing her to count down until then.

And then they walked through the halls, until they found the red room she'd dreamt about, and Safiya saw in her vision. Leona climbed into bed, and turned her back to her friends as their cue to leave. As they did, she suddenly felt very sleepy. _If Gann did this, I have to thank him, _she thought. _I'd never have gotten to sleep without a little help, tonight._


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Leona awoke to the smell of jasmine tea, and stretched her sore limbs. It was raining today, but not cold; she peeled off the covers and padded around her chambers to look around. It was her first day and she was nervous, like a performer about to go on stage for the first time. She was afraid that her friends were still there, spying on her; or that this room was a trap, about to swallow her up and take her someplace else. She feared she would hate the Manor, and go insane here; she feared she would like it too much, and go insane when she left. She was thinking of their boat ride, of Casavir's hands on her arms. She was thinking that there were fifteen days left, and then she could go home. Hell, she'd spent more than fifteen days en route to the King of Shadows, eating very little and sleeping on dungeon floors. She'd spent over three hundred days _without a soul._ Surely she could make it through fifteen, in this comfortable room.

There was a knock at the door, and then it opened. Four women appeared, each looking beautifully average, or averagely beautiful. Each was different in skin tone, hair, height. Each had no tattoos, jewelry, or anything else to set them apart. Each was wearing identical slip dresses perfect for the warm summer air. They were lovely, and they were…completely ignoring her. They wandered over to the great settee across the room, sat down together, and started speaking in a melodious language she did not know.

As Leona wandered over to them, and stood close enough to watch like a visitor at the zoo, it was clear that the women's talk and body language grew more sexual. This didn't come as a surprise; Leona knew what the Manor was for. She'd expected, though, to be forced somehow, or tied up or _something_. She'd expected to be shown new pleasures, and somehow humiliated for it. She wasn't being forced; she wasn't even invited. She didn't know what else to do, so she just sat down next to the settee, invisible to the comfortable four.

As she sat her brain grew foggy, muddled. She didn't know if it was over minutes or hours that the activity on the settee became less teatime and more orgy. It didn't matter, did it? _I can see why men don't resist for long,_ she thought. _Casavir lasted sixteen days watching this?_

Leona noticed that occasionally one of the women would reach out her arms, inviting her in, and then the invitation disappeared. She knew she could hold out if she wanted to. At least, for today. At least, this morning. At least, this hour, this minute, this second. But suddenly she felt relaxed and carefree. It didn't really matter what she did here. She couldn't leave, and she had a lot to understand, in a very short time. At this rate, they might barely even touch her in sixteen days. And she was already bored and uncomfortable just sitting there. So the next time one of the women looked her way and held out her arms, Leona curled herself into them, wincing just a little at the effort it took her to be vulnerable. They could reject her, if they wanted.

And they did. Suddenly whole demeanor of all four women changed. They became friendly again, positively chaste, and then disappeared through the door as quickly as they'd come. Leona felt as if she'd just been tested, and sorely failed. Their goal, clearly, was to make her give in. She did so very quickly, and they called it to her attention. She felt weak, and unfulfilled. She did feel tortured, truly. Leona went to her window, with a clear view of that waterfall she'd seen before Casavir's rescue. Everywhere were reminders of what she'd lost. She and Bishop had spent a wonderful day near a waterfall like that. She couldn't even look at one without thinking of him. How would she last in this Manor with ghosts so strong, and dignity already so stripped?

Leona awoke from her afternoon nap to the smell of jasmine tea, and stretched her sore limbs. It was not cold; she peeled off the covers and padded around her chambers again.

There was a knock at the door, and then it opened. Four women appeared, different than the morning's four, but they acted much the same. They headed to the settee and Leona, determined to play her hand differently, headed to the bathroom. It had no door, though, and she could hear them as clearly as if she were sitting with them. Leona sat there, her brain fogging, muddled. She didn't know if it was over minutes or hours that the activity through the walls reached a fever pitch, and then the orgy-like play died down from a roar. When she came out, the women were still there. They puttered around her Chambers until dark, even after she left to take a long walk around the Island, to get its measure. She carefully avoided the waterfall, but was happy to be alone with her memories, and thoughts of when she could leave, what the future would hold. When she returned, it seemed late, and the women were relaxing in her Chambers, clearly with no intention of leaving. She fell asleep in spite of their presence, and they were on the settee still when she woke up the next day.

On the second day, Leona awoke to the smell of jasmine tea, and stretched her limbs. Once she had breakfasted and done a morning routine (painfully short in such Spartan Chambers), she returned from the bathroom to find four new women on her bed, moving closer to each other all the while. This time, their invitation to her was clear. Though worried that she would be tricked and rebuked again, Leona went anyway. By this time she was very bored, and also lustful. She hadn't thought watching women _ignoring_ her – or watching women at all – would be appealing. What's more, she wanted to play the game. She pushed back the fear that she would be rejected for all of her days here – what was it, fourteen, fifteen more? She wanted to be a part of them so badly, even though she didn't know them. Her mind still foggy from sleep, she ached for only one thing, that only they could provide her. They reached for her, she winced again, and she reached back, hoping they would accept her, humbled and vulnerable. Briefly she thought that it took barely a day before she wanted them to bursting. But the wanting was so strong, it pushed even that thought away.

The four women didn't push her away this time; she exhaled, relieved. She basked in her moment of acceptance. The four enveloped her, stealing her senses until she was nothing but a ball of sensation. Be it spells or drugs or practiced hands, it didn't matter to Leona anymore. She got what she wanted. Whatever she had done, they thought it was right, and she was being rewarded. She was in a prison, she knew, but her body was free.

Leona awoke to the smell of jasmine tea, and stretched her limbs. It was raining today, but never cold; she peeled off the covers and padded around her chambers as she did every morning. She had no idea which day it was of the sixteen; she knew only that it was after day two, when she had stopped being tense and uneasy. In years on the road, not knowing who was friend or foe, inhibition and caution had served her well. Once she got over the fear she was being trapped – that was on day two – there was nothing else to really think about, so she didn't. Only lust mattered. When the ladies came, they would guide her for the day, and she wouldn't have to think about anything, really. She floated, contentedly, in their care.

The only place she would never go was the waterfall. It reminded her of past lovers, all of whom she'd forgotten except when she saw the waterfall again. But the island was wide enough, the Manor itself varied enough, that it was rarely an issue. Today, when the ladies came, they led her outside to the pond instead. The rain was made of warm, summery drops, and added to the heightened sensation her skin always had now. Every touch, even from a raindrop, shimmered into her skin, as if she was aware down to her bones.

There were two of them today, and after they brought her to the pond they frolicked and splashed in the water, mostly ignoring her. But she knew enough of the game: she had to try to join them. She had to initiate. She had to admit, in actions, that she wanted to be a part of their fun, their intimacy, their sin. When she could admit her need, only then would they welcome her. And welcome her they would, completely. There was nothing else to do, and Leona's pride did not hold her back any longer. She joined them, and they joined with her, through morning and the rest of the day. At night she slept deeply, whether she was alone or not. She remembered marveling on day two, how easy it was to fall asleep when one had no plans for the next day, or the next, or the next.

Leona awoke to the smell of jasmine tea, and stretched her limbs. It was raining today, but never cold; she peeled off the covers and padded around her chambers as she did every morning. She didn't bother to think which day it was; there was no "day." There were two states of being: craving, and release. She was always, always, craving, and relied on the Ladies shamelessly for release. Where were the ladies? They would come. Of course they would come. They had to come, to guide her for the day.

Today, when the ladies came, they guided her to the waterfall. Leona wondered at its perfect beauty, could smell its freshness, and walked right under its deafening rush. The ladies, a few steps ahead of her, turned and looked back, expectant. They smiled at her, as if she were a child learning a new trick. All she wanted was to be with them. There was no tomorrow, and certainly no yesterday. There was now, and her and them, and new memories of pleasure carved on top of old ones. She caught up to them without hesitation. She joined them, and they joined with her, through morning and the rest of the day. When night came, she slept deeply, neither replaying the day nor thinking ahead to the next. There were only two states of being, and she was not craving any longer.


	23. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Casavir had decided that while Leona was at the Manor, he would stay chaste. This was exceedingly difficult for him, who had not been without near-constant sex for two years. It wasn't the physical arousal he required; it was, like any drug, a temporary emptiness. He had to channel his energy elsewhere, so he returned to strict meditation rituals that he hadn't seen the likes of in years.

The days passed so slowly. He knew just what was happening to her there; they were breaking her pride, slowly but surely. By now she was unabashedly lustful, shamelessly controlled. He suffered, just thinking of her mind, blank and alone. By now she had surely forgotten which day of the sixteen they were on (ten, now). He knew she had probably forgotten him, too. Casavir realized he was feeling, over these two weeks, as Leona must have in just a few days, finding out he was alive and suffering in a prison that snaps one's pride. How could he have let her leave? He was so deeply broken, and now she would be broken too. Why had he allowed her to walk straight into such brainwashing, such humiliation? He was selfish; he was lonely. He admitted that part of him wanted her to know what he had been through. But no one can ever really know another's exact suffering. He would always be alone, even when she returned. She will have suffered for nothing. Casavir could do nothing but return to his prayers.

Casavir packed his things: on day thirteen, tomorrow, they would set sail again. He rose early to get more meditation time at the Temple. It was so much easier here than on a boat with others, who already seemed uncomfortable around him since he returned. Except for Gann, who didn't ever seem ill-at-ease. It was still hard for Casavir to be around him, knowing that Gann had seen Leona through her soulless torture, while he was locked away. Just as she could never really know his suffering, nor could he know hers. But Gann had known it. He had stood right with her at the Wall. That Leona risked her life this very day to understand Casavir better, did nothing to soften the wound.

Casavir settled into his meditation and prayed to Tyr for Leona's safe passage back with them.

_Why do you ask for this, when you let her to roam a jungle alone?_

Casavir fell backwards from his meditation pose: it couldn't be…it had been so long since…

_You thought you were forsaken, Katalmach. Indeed. For simply being the man you were born to be._

"Tyr, I…I had hoped…to do better by you."

_Noble servant you still are. Many would ask why __**I**__ had not done better by __**you**__._

"I was sure you had your reasons."

_ And indeed I did. They have borne fruit._

Casavir stayed silent, not daring to ask directly what fruit had been borne. Nothing felt remotely sweet to him right now. But one didn't ask the Gods for knowledge. They bestowed it, only when they felt one should have it.

_You know they call me the 'maimed God."_

"Yes."

_Do you think I could be hampered by such wounds?_

Casavir stayed silent.

_Answer, Katalmach._

"I…for my part, I…saw it as a symbol."

_Of?_

"Triumph over misfortune."

_Indeed._

There was silence so long, Casavir was sure he had been left again by the God. He turned the words over in his mind, when suddenly Tyr spoke again.

_You see fit to exalt my wounds, yet demonize your own?_

"You are a God. I am a man. My wounds are shortcomings; Yours…are choices."

**_You think I CHOSE to lose my eyes and arm?_**

"I mean no disrespect, Tyr. I do not see You as vulnerable in the least. I find it hard to believe another God could best You without Your consent."

_A true Paladin, with silver tongue. But think on this: chosen wounds do not instruct._

"Tell this to Leona, who chose wounds, for love of me."

_Ah, but she did not choose the wounds; you did. _

This was a thought Casavir could not bear. That he caused her pain…it was unbearable.

_Think on what I have said, Katalmach, and find yourself better for your maiming. You are not lost to Me, and she is not lost to you. No matter who tries to deceive you – be it others, or your own self – this is fact. _

Casavir was broken out of meditation in a deep sweat, and hunched over, dehydrated and exhausted. He stayed that way without tracking time, until Ivarr appeared and carried him back to his Chamber. Though he could barely think, Casavir did note that he had managed to stay chaste all the days Leona was at the Manor. Tomorrow they would leave, and thanks to Tyr he was more ready for sleep than ever he had been in the arms of ladies.


	24. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

This would be the third trip to the Manor that Gann had taken with Sand and Neeshka present, and the second with Safiya, who he was proud to call friend. Of the three trips, he thought, the first was the hardest. At least now they knew the way, and more or less what to expect. They gathered up Honus – who was miserable without Leona and all too willing to retrieve her – and set sail once Casavir had boarded.

Casavir always looked like he had internal dialogue, but today Gann noticed he looked especially contemplative. _Can't blame the guy,_ Gann thought. Casavir, these days, looked at any minute like he would combust or collapse. Gann wished he'd known him before the Battle. _Must have been an impressive soldier, and an imposing man. The Shadow Wars seem to have left this walking shadow in his place._

Gann was never one to keep distance, so as they set sail he decided to pry. Sand knew Casavir from the Battles, of course, but they were more like colleagues than friends, little more than mutual respect to bind them. Safiya had only met him the one time, at the planning meeting. And Neeshka got fidgety around him because she was, to be frank, a shifty rogue, and those with religious power unnerved her. That left only him to try to help. Also, he was nosy, and uninhibited.

"I'd offer a coin for your thoughts, but I'm not sure I have enough gold." Gann strode up next to Casavir and followed his gaze to the wake of the ship in the water.

Casavir felt safer with Gann than he thought he should have, but since Gann never seemed to truly care about anything, he was easy to talk to. Casavir also felt he greatly owed him, for both Leona's safety and his own. So despite his natural sense of rivalry he felt trust and admiration for his unabashed blue companion.

After a pause, Casavir said, "Tyr's voice returned to me, yesterday."

"Ah. Did He give reason for His absence?"

Casavir smiled. "That is a question only a godless man could think to ask."

"That's where I have a problem with Gods. He owes you a reason, I don't care who He is. He left you in a time of need."

"He said just that, Himself. But he also said He had reasons, and that they bore fruit."

"Well, that sounds to me like covering His ass. Anyway, what were they?"

Casavir inhaled a long breath, like the first half of a sigh. "He said that wounds instruct."

"That they do. But you didn't need a God to tell you that."

"I think he was telling me there was something to be learned, for both her and me. I think he was reminding me to…have faith."

Gann turned his gaze from the water to his companion. "Sounds to me like you kept faith in the one thing not worth keeping. Any wise man could have told you the same things, while asking much less of you. And what's worth believing in – Leona's love for you, and your own worth – seem harder for you to grasp. Are all Paladins like you?"

"Paladins value duty and faith above all else."

Gann smirked. "Faith in? The one who left you alone in prison, or the one who refused to? Leona is your worthy inspiration. The God, not so much."

"I don't have to choose between them, Gannayev."

"No, you don't. So, don't. See the holy in your Tyr, sure. Then see the Holy in her, the Holy in you, and the Holy in you, together. Nothing less will do."

"I agree. Easier said than done, especially for myself. Other than what Tyr and Leona have sown, I don't think there's anything Holy left in me."

Gann put his hand on Casavir's back, and felt him tense. "Much more than your eyes can see. You have help, you know, and not just from on high."

"I seem always indebted to you, Gannayev. I cannot say I like it."

"Oh, there may be something I may ask of you, someday. One thing at a time. Let's get our Girl back."

Casavir stiffened further, and Gann then clapped him hard on the back. To Casavir's credit, he didn't sway. "Now," said Gann. "I want you to tell me all about Neeshka."


	25. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Leona awoke to the smell of jasmine tea, and stretched her limbs. It was sunny today, and never cold; she peeled off the covers and padded around her chambers as she did every morning. The ladies were already there, and despite the sun it looked like they were setting up to stay inside today. They were pressing oils and flowers from the gardens into a poultice, laughing and chatting as they worked. Leona's heart beat faster at the sight of them, but as they were still ignoring her, she bypassed them to the tub area for some morning ablutions.

On her return, she passed through the sitting room to gather some fresh clothes. As she turned, she was shocked to see a _man_ on the large cushions against the West wall. A _man_? How many years had it been since she'd seen, let alone thought of, a _man_? He had clearly been watching her closely, and was eyeing her intently now. She was not threatened – had forgotten how to be threatened – so she stood there, staring at him. She knew him. She knew this man.

He spoke.

"Leona," he said. That was her name. "Leona. It has been sixteen days. Do you remember?"

She remembered _something, _but wasn't sure about sixteen anything. She remembered one, two –

Just then the three ladies from her room came into view, surprised as she was but also unthreatened, and unconcerned. They turned her away towards the bedroom, and she went, thinking only of the promise of warm flowery oil and the bliss of emptiness. But it was the act of turning away that jarred her. She had turned away from this man before. She felt unpleasant inside, as if a shard were inside her heart. Again. She had had a shard inside her heart, once. He had helped her take the shard out. He had saved her life. She turned her head around and said, "Casavir." He smiled as if reassured, and got up and followed them. Leona found herself relieved that he would stay. She didn't want him to leave. This was a new kind of craving, and there were only two states of being. How could there be a third?

The ladies placed Leona face-down on the bed, as if to block her wandering eyes. She did not turn her head, but found her vision blocked at all times by three bodies, so she relaxed into the six-handed massage. Craving was clear, and uncomplicated. The man could stay. He would stay.

Casavir was fascinated. Having been in the Manor for so long, and then away from it, he saw with new eyes. He understood with clarity each and every move the ladies made, and could smell the sense-enhancing magic on the air. Like Leona, he was there by choice, and he trusted their friends to take them away when the day was done. Until then, he could do what _he_ hadn't done on _his_ sixteenth day: succumb because he wanted to, not because there was no other choice. Through this, he was redeemed. _Tyr said that wounds you choose do not instruct,_ he thought. _But I have learned so much in just this moment._

_ But, wait_.

_This is no longer a wound._

Leona, eyes closed and body relaxed, suddenly jumped as if jolted with electric shock. There was a fourth pair of hands on her, and they were different than the others. These hands were bigger, rougher, and more adoring. _The man_. She knew this man's hands. She pulled up off her stomach to face him, look at him again. She looked up at the man through the maze of hands, and saw that his eyes were wet. "I want to see your face," she said. "Let me see your face."

He looked at her a long minute, and then lied down beside her.

"You are Casavir," she said. He put his forehead to hers, as if testing her for fever.

"Do you know why I am here?"

She squinted at him, opened her mouth, then shut it again. Then she moved her own hands to his face. "Sixteen days," she said.

"Yes. It's day sixteen. We have today, and then we will go home."

"Together."

"Together."

Then six hands enveloped them, and there were only two states of being: craving, and release.


End file.
